13 August 2010

Leave it to me...


I had a beautiful, fun time at BlogHer and in NYC, and I really have nothing bad to say, yet I made it seem like that yesterday with my crabby post. I just like to whine, that's all. And I thought it was funny. I'm glad at least one of you laughed.

About 10 days before BlogHer, I got a bee in my bonnet. It occurred to me that people would have a hard time packing their Tutus for Tanner. I also got the idea that someone needed to rectify this situation, and that someone happened to be me.

I thought that if I took tutu materials to BlogHer, we could have a good, old-fashioned tutu-making bee while there, saving people the trouble of packing the light but bulky garments. It would also give people a chance to bond over a crafty project and perhaps lure some non-5kers into the event.

I went to the fabric store and bought 65 yards of tulle from an extremely underimpressed fabric cutter. I didn't mean to buy so much but OOH PRETTY took over and I had to get some of each color. Luckily tulle is surprisingly affordable.

Then it was time to cut the tulle into 6 inch wide strips. It became my life's work to get this stuff cut up. I did it at home. I did it at breaks at work. I enlisted the help of my mostly-blind dad and my arthritic mom. And piece by piece, we got it done.

I shipped it to my friend Suzanne's home so I could pick it up when I got to NYC. She brought it to the People's Party and I piled it all on a table in a fluffy rainbow, and it was truly gorgeous.

Major Bedhead

If you bring something pretty and fluffy to a party that is mostly women, they will come over to see what was going on. I had an enthusiastic crew of tutu-makers, including Major Bedhead, Rachel and some lovely bloggers I had never met before.

Rachel, who made a red and black flamenco - or maybe Goth - tutu

This is either Kristin or her friend, Krista. I am bad with names and things in general. But they were both fun and game for tutu-making.

Our tutu-making skills varied wildly, even though tutus are easy to make - you just tie the strips of tulle around an elastic waistband - but it was all in good fun. Soon we had about 10 tutus in various color combos, ready for the next morning's event.

Mine, was, of course, in Lakers colors. I had to represent for the West Coast:

During the 5k, I couldn't run OR walk. I hobbled down to Central Park to take photos, leading me to tweet:
"It it 7 am. I am standing in Central Park. Wearing a tutu. Holding a stapler."

It turns out even jaded New Yorkers will look if you are wearing a tutu in Central Park. One person had a guy yell "Why you wearin' your leotard?" at them.

All true. I live a weird, wonderful and fun life. Thanks to everyone who joined me in this craziness. The 5k turned out beautifully, with about 100 people racing thru Central Park or down Broadway in various stages of fluffiness (it's amazing how many different kinds of tutus there are!). BHJ ran six consecutive 5ks in New York summertime heat, so I think he won, though everyone deserves a medal.

Photos by Kizzbeth, who is just the best person.

12 August 2010

Bits and Pieces

I'm trying to avoid writing the "OMG BlogHer Squee" post, so this is what you get.


A friend told me that his therapist thinks I should post more. He pays his therapist to advise a random woman whom she has never met how to post on her blog.

I have this to say to his therapist:

In other words, there is now a LOLcat for everything.

One Monday, I was getting all my crap out of my car for work. Laptop, lunch bag, big Mary Poppins purse, travel mug. I was standing on the curb and turned to walk into the building. Tripped and fell, twisting both ankles.

I laid there face down in the parking lot, watching my coffee flow into a puddle in front of me, thinking exactly this: "Ow. Ow. Ow."

Within two hours, one ankle had swollen to about 150% its usual size, while the other one merely hurt like hell.

In less than 48 hours, I would leave for BlogHer 2010, an event that requires as much walking as an Avon 3-Day Breast Cancer event. Impeccable timing. I haz it.


On the Tuesday before BlogHer (I left on Wednesday), EmmieJ, one of the bloggers flying on the Virgin America party plane tweeted that she was sick with a cold. And that she was on her way to join us for our Wednesday flight.

I did not handle this news well.

I had what might charitably be called a freakout of epic proportions. I was going to be stuck on a plane for five hours in close proximity to Germ Girl. You KNOW how I feel about germs.

I tweeted a couple replies, the subtext of which was "WTF BITCH?? Are you trying to KILL ME???" I am nothing if not compassionate.

The beautiful irony was that she had had to move heaven and earth to get on the flight with us, as she was coming from Sacramento to LA and then to NYC, and Virgin wanted to do nothing more than fly her direct to the Big Apple.

I furiously tried to get on the Virgin America website to change my flight. They, meanwhile, were having a major sale. The page WOULD NOT load. I sat there staring at the screen and obsessively refreshing for an hour. I finally got the site to tell me I could fly a few hours later in the day than I had planned for only an additional $350. Uh, no. I'm a germaphobe, but I am also a cheap bastard germophobe.

Plan B: Aromatherapy. No joke. My aromatherapist, Bambi (NO, I am not making this up. I'm from California. Everyone in California has an aromatherapist named Bambi) has this Miracle Smell Juice that kills germs for yards around you, guaranteed. Ok, not guaranteed, exactly, but it got me through 4 cold and flu seasons in Cubicle Hell without getting sick, which makes it practically FDA approved, right?

But Bambi was out for the evening, so I went to the health food store, where I found something similar to Bambi's Miracle Juice in the aromatherapy aisle, but it needed to be diluted.

"Do you have any small bottles?" I asked. Yes, on the bottom shelf. Next to the giant bottles of patchouli oil. Which is my least favorite scent, by the way, right up there with lavender, cat crap and deviled eggs. Patchouli oil in giant GLASS bottles that are easily tipped over and shattered if an exceptionally clumsy person taps them just right...

Yes, I did. I caused a Toxic Airborne Event in my health food store. A two-foot wide pool of pure Hippie Stank Patchouli Oil spread out all over the linoleum, releasing its fumes from hell.

People were wheezing and coughing and covering their faces. All except for a little 8-year-old mini-Goth girl, who loved the stench. You gotta wonder about how that child is going to turn out.

And of course the health food store checkout line was long and it took forever and I was blanketed in a coating of Patchouli smell and I still had to go home and get up at 2:30 a.m. to get to the airport, so I stopped and got a burrito for dinner on the way home.

A vegetarian burrito with avocado WITH avocado (sometimes I splurge) and took it home to eat.

It was a meat burrito, not a vegetarian burrito. I do not eat meat. I think it was then that I tweeted "If I were the type of person to think God messed with people, I would think God was messing with me."

I drove the mile back to return the burrito and waited in line for 20 minutes to do so. Not exaggerating - it was 10 minutes to closing time and every stoned surfer in town was waiting for a grease bomb.

I got my burrito, got in my car and burst into tears. I was just...done.

But then I really WAS done. I decided to quit freaking out, to go home and pack my clothes and sleep for 3 hours and get up and be cheerful and have a great time. And that's what I did.


EmmieJ was on the flight, feeling icky but sitting a row back and across the plane from me. Sitting in the seat directly in front of me was a four-year-old girl who was feverish, coughing, and sneezing loudly the whole flight.

Too late, God. Too late.

10 August 2010

BlogHer in 100 words

I staggered up to the security checkpoint at JFK airport on swollen ankles, freighted under the weight of carry-on luggage and the massive cheese strudel I had eaten at Zabar's Deli that morning.

There was no one ahead of me in line. The airport was so empty that it looked as if it were closed for renovations.

I handed my ID and boarding pass over to the security guard.

"Is it always this slow on...um...er...Tuesdays?" I said uncertainly.

"Mondays," he replied. "Today is Monday. That must have been some weekend."

"Yes it was. Yes, yes, it was."
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