Okay, people, raise your hand if you're not going to the Blogher Conference. Go ahead, higher. I'm counting. One, two . . . five . . . ten. A whole ten of us are not going to Chicago for the annual Blogher soiree.
I don't know about you, but I'm feeling rather like that time all my stoner friends went down to Baja without me because Mom and Dad were being all paranoid about the fact that there were no responsible adults going. Ga-ah! They just loved making my life hell on earth. If it wasn't for them, I'd have lost my virginity much sooner. Probably.
So, I'm thinking that those of us who have to stay home and miss out on all the partying in the Windy City get together for our own blogger's conference. We'll call it BlogherNot, an unstoppable cyber force.
Oh, wait! Holly's on TV. Holy shit, she just threw off all her clothes, and now she's jumping on some guy. Ohh, baby, it's a detective. OMG, they're . . . Wonder where her Get-Yer-Shit-Together Angel Earl is? Is he witnessing this steamfest? Heh, heh. My girl has no shame. I love her.
Okay, commercial.
Whaddya say? Meet here Thursday night? We'll form our own panels. So Fragrant Liar, why do you blog? Because I must have constant attention, of course.
BYOB and some Fiddle Faddle, 'kay?
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Hi, I’m stupid.
3 days ago
