Sound Advice and Some Photos

You know, I'm not the least bit surprised that my Dad is feeling better today after the response from all of you. He has been diagnosed with a kidney infection and a bowel obstruction and they are pumping him full of mystery stuff and waiting to see what happens and if he needs surgery. In the meantime, he has a Buddha belly from all the trapped gas and gets morphine on demand. I went to see him this afternoon at lunch. "You know, the internet is praying for you and sending you good vibes."

"Who?" he asked.

"The internet."

"Why?"

"Because I asked them to." He absorbed this, looking confused and then slightly surprised. "Do you have anything you want to tell them?" I asked, gently.

"Yes," he declared.

I took out my notebook and pen, shocked. "Go for it."

"Never take a fart for granted."

And there you have it.

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This, umm, instructional thing somehow ended up in my carry-on bag, and when I'm feeling a little bit blue, I look at this guy with the porn 'stache:




See? Isn't the effect AMAZING?

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I have a short recap of BlogHer if anyone gives a shit and then I won't bug you about it, anymore.

First, I'd like to thank you all for helping me get there, both emotionally and otherwise. I said, in my panel, that I have the best bunch of readers and I mean that.

Secondly, I'd like to give a special thanks to Dan & Joyce, who took my friend, Amanda, and me to an incredible lunch on Fisherman's Wharf. It cost him around ten thousand dollars and, honestly? We could have been on a bench, watching the seagulls shit on everyone and still have had a complete blast. He is incredible and so is his fiance and I cannot thank them enough for leaving us with such a special memory of such a magical city. Oh, and then today, these show up:



That is the real deal, yo. We joked that Dan is like my drug dealer and in a way, he is. IT'S MADE WITH REAL SUGAR AND YOU CAN'T JUST BUY THIS IN THE STORE. He knows what I need. Just a taste. To take the edge off.

San Francisco, thank you. You take such pride in your city (as you should) and it shows in every tiny detail. The beauty all around us and the kindness that was shown to us was refreshing after living in such a racially charged, rapidly declining city. We had to be sedated and carried onto the plane. It was too much to face coming back after seeing that, oh MY GOD. Even the homeless people try to make a living by passing out their newsletter. Here, they just pop out a fake eyeball and follow you around until you give them a dollar to stop grossing you the fuck out by screaming, "Lookit the little pussy on muh face!" (Yes. Really)

BlogHer, all of you, thank you. You put on one hell of an event and how you got Macy's to shut the place down, give us red wine and allow us to slobber all over each other amidst white, thousand-dollar shoes and handbags is a miracle.

I will now tell you of my entrance to The Slide. The Slide is a San Francisco night club and the party was generously hosted by Silicon Valley Moms. This place was a speakeasy in the 20's and the only way to get in was down a wooden slide. They still have the slide and a staircase around it, for the less adventurous, but I told everyone who would listen that I wasn't going to San Francisco and going into a JEN!!-YOU!!-WINE!! SPEAKEASY and not go down the mother-humping slide! (I would like to thank the academy for my nomination as the spastic twat of the year) Amanda had the good sense to go down the stairs. I watched a few women slide down, leap off the end, land very daintily on their toes and then do a pirouette. Seemed easy enough, so I pulled my boots off, listened carefully as the girl instructed me to tuck my arms in so I didn't take the skin off on the way down and I sat my chunky ass in the opening. For a moment, I was comforted by the fact that I didn't have to sign a waiver (as was the case with the drunken, mechanical bull-riding, broken vagina incident) and then I grinned at Amanda and slid into the tube. The only thing I could think of as I rocketed through the slide was that someone had gotten a very large sample of jelly from our sponsors, KY, it had broken on their turn and now I was cutting a fucking blue streak through a wooden slide because I was seriously moving. Like, rolled in crisco moving. I had time to stick my elbows out (because I didn't want to drop my boots. Oh, no. They might get scuffed. The horror.), hum one bar of the "Hokey Pokey" and then all I saw was the panic-stricken face of the bouncer at the bottom. As I jettisoned past him and he lunged for my elbow, I had time to realize that I was still fucking airborn, y'all, and then he fell on top of me and Amanda had a snorting, stomping, gut-busting conniption while I wondered if my tail-bone was broken. Hello, everyone. I'm Crystal. The bouncer pulled himself up, muttered something under his breath and walked away. If you look closely, you can see the skin that used to reside on my elbows:




They now have a sign up that says, "No Fat Chicks Down The Slide". Swear.

I now want to thank some more people and give you my impressions of them and then I'll leave it alone because I think everyone else has done a tremendous job of reliving it and doing it justice.

Yvonne and SJ, thank you so much for inviting us to the hamburger party. When you said you were getting 100 cheeseburgers and having a party, I thought it was a metaphor that I just didn't get. Then I spent all day and night Friday evacuating every vital organ and nutrient and ounce of moisture out of every orifice and I probably wouldn't have been a hit when, instead of making a "bag" hat, I shit into it. We were in Chinatown when it hit me the hardest and I think Amanda had to buy about a hundred packs of gum so I didn't defecate or vomit on the street. "Bafroom fo customuh onry!"

Bossy was on a mission to meet as many people as possible and I think she talked to all thousand women. Twice. I kept seeing her trademark scarf weaving through the crowd and I chased her for awhile but then I was distracted by a guy with vodka.

We met a man who was so nice and so sweet and such a good listener that there was no way he could be straight and then he showed us pictures of his pregnant fiance . You will be a very loved Daddy, Brian. Thank you for your kindness to us.

Dawn! Totally not the crazy, axe-in-my-handbag psycho-mom I imagined you might be (and with that many kids, I would not have blamed you if you had hacked my head off and used it to make jam tarts or some shit). You're so great in person that I felt immediately at ease with you.

You are unforgettable. And the conversation we had and what you said to me will live in my heart forever as one of the sweetest moments of my life.

Good God, Jenn. I don't know where you store all that energy and vitality, but remind me to never try to outdrink you. The sight of you outside that hotel, furiously puffing on an unlit cigarette with dogged determination, like your sheer will to smoke that damned thing would make it fire up, was funny enough. But then after ten minutes of talking and randomly trying to inhale something from it, you finally looked down and said, "Meh. Fuck it. Everyone's bitching at me to quit, anyway," before you threw it in the trash and some homeless man dove in to find it. How I laughed. Thank you for understanding, with no judgment, that I was overwhelmed and unable to fulfill my part of the agreement. It means so much to me to know that you don't think less of me for being one of those who can't say no.

Shino Tanaka (you brought me water so I didn't puke on anyone in the audience. I wanted to cuddle with you and talk about our dreams, but, alas, you were gone), Dana!, Michelle, Shannon, Carrie, Nelly, Amy, Lisa, Caroline, Liz, Kristin, Fausta, Mary, Kim, Armen (who has an incredible project..go check it out), Linda, Chris, Gwendomama, Tanya; you all played a role in helping me and Amanda feel welcome and I am grateful to have met you. If I didn't list you here, it's not because you weren't memorable, it's only because I didn't get your business card. (And I suck, but I think everyone knows that by now)

A special thank you to the bitch from the buckle (hah! nickname!) for manning up and trying the raw-bacon-caper-lettuce-cheese shit with me.

Another incredibly heartfelt thank you to Stefanie who probably thinks I should just shut the fuck up, already, but, wow. What you did.

And last, but most certainly not least, to Tanis. I said your name and you were there, like some foul-mouthed, Canadian fairy godmother. I can't explain how much it meant to me, what you said, but know that it's mutual and it physically hurts to meet someone like you who lives so far away because I know that you're one of those rare people I can be around all the time and never tire of. I hope you didn't catch the herpes.

(I'm sorry for being cryptic. I just don't want to splash other people's private words to me all over the place...I trust you, but I can't assume they'd be okay with it. Hope that's alright)

I wrote last year about BlogHer and how I felt on the fringe, isolated and unnoticed. I realize, now, that most if not all of that was me and my inner demons. I can't expect everyone to approach me and break the ice, nor can I blame them if I appear uncomfortable and thereby give off the impression that I don't want to be approached. I was very impressed by the story I read on the way to San Francisco of a man who elected not to speak for seventeen years. He said he learned more by listening to people, by watching them. I watched and tried to listen this particular weekend. I saw some of you, uncomfortable but doing a good job of hiding it and some of you who just went to have some good, clean fun. (And then some of you were straight up freaks, but, whatever, it's San Francisco, live and let live, no?) But what I did see more of this year than last was people going outside their comfort zones to interact with others. I don't know if that was because more of you wanted to network this year, there was more empathy, more relaxation or what it was. I do know there were some people there, not many, who were completely and utterly full of shit, but the vast majority seemed to be genuine and kind and what a difference that made for the overall atmosphere.

Hurrah, ladies and gentleman. Good show.