the things that come after vodka

Surely I am not the only person who goes to a three-day blogging conference and then awakes out of her post-trip coma to realize she hasn't posted anything in a week, right? Surely that's normal? To go from Oh Em Gee Blogz and Learning! to What? There are WORDS on the internet? It's not just cats!? SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

I think what I'm trying to tell you right now is that my brain was mush and it has finally reconstituted (somewhat) and I am prepared to tell you what happened to me in San Diego.

Wait, wait. That sounds like the beginning of a victim's statement. Or a Lifetime movie. Let's scratch that and go with: I went to BlogHer and I'mma tell y'all ALL 'bout it.

I also need to tell you about the letter I received from a convict and the note that was tucked under my windshield wiper at the gym from an anonymous admirer. And then maybe we can all speculate about the possible specifics of the third creepertown thing that will absolutely happen to me, probably tomorrow. These things come in threes, y'all. Like celebrity deaths.

And by the time I tell you about all of that I'm sure I'll have done something else idiotic worth rehashing for public consumption. Why, tomorrow night I'm going to Mollie Fontaine's to celebrate the imminent departure of two of my dear friends -- I think we all know this is a recipe for, well, vodka. And then the things that come after vodka.

Which, technically speaking, could be an alternate name for this blog.

cheers,

elizabeth