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June 2006
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August 2006

BlogHer: Night One

Please. People. STOP CALLING ME and asking me WHERE I AM, WHY AM I NOT DOWNSTAIRS, WHY AM I MISSING THE OFFICIAL CONFERENCE KICK-OFF. I got about 20 minutes of sleep, I am hungover, jet-lagged, there is some jackass HAMMERING OUTSIDE MY ROOM and I still don't understand how to work the shower. This is pretty much the most I can say right now: All things considered, it's probably the best we could hope for. Read more →


Dispatches From the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

Well. I am here in California. I survived two flights, including the Scariest Connection Ever at the L.A. airport, where I was quite literally herded out towards a dumpster on the side of a runway and told in Spanish to wait for a bus, a bus that was labeled with every airline that WAS NOT THE AIRLINE I NEEDED, but everyone who looked sort of official just kept nodding and pointing at the bus and I actually thought for a few minutes that I was going to be deported. I was not deported. In case you were wondering. I am, as I said, here in California. I don't know if das boot is off my car (we had more than two unpaid parking tickets more than 30 days old is what we did, only replace "two" with "seven" and "30 days" with "assorted lengths of time, topping maybe five months or so"), my hotel room smells funny and I don't understand how to work the shower. I am going to go find the bar. Here is something I wrote many, many hours ago, when the day was young and runway dumpsterless, at the airport in Washington, DC. All checked in.... Read more →


Das Boot

Or, From the Department of Yes. Yes! This Right Here is Totally What I Need Right Now We interrupt (okay, "mercifully kill") today's liveblogging spectacular (okay, "spectacularly boring") with some breaking news: Son of a bitch. No, seriously. This is so totally awesome of you, District of Columbia. Okay, yes. We probably deserve it. In fact, it's probably a bit of a goddamned miracle that we've never been booted before, but...but... *looks down, kicks a rock and mutters some profanities* Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to have a margarita or four and really get this packing party started, and by "started" you know I mean "shot straight to hell, ensuring that I will arrive in California with a suitcase full of sweaters, ugly shoes and diamant√© pasties." Read more →


Packing Diary IV: Live on Ice

Semi-real-time blogging! Right here, all day long! Get ready to refresh like you have never refreshed before! Or to get really bored, lose interest and wander off somewhere else entirely! 8:28 am: Wake up, gloriously late. Or maybe not so damn glorious, as Noah is in the evil clutches of a major sleep meltdown and pretty much howled his head off all night. 8:29: Heh. Heh. Leaving him with the in-laws. Heeeeeeeeeh. 8:32 But Noah's excitement at being retrieved from his crib? The bouncing? The smiles? The great!big!hugs? Oh man. OH MAN. 8:45 Coffee. Bottle. Everybody's happy. 8:47 Sounds of dog, puking. 8:58 Retrieve yesterday's coffee cup from random shelf on wall. Ew. 9:10 Dude. I smell. 9:13 BLUUUUUE'S CLUUUUUES! I am so damn excited. 9:14 Should really start making a packing list, or something. 9:15 OMG it's the 100th episode spectacular! Steve and Joe! Reunited! I may very well faint. 9:45 Ok, ok. Must think about packing. Must think about how to pack with a semi-toddler-type person wandering around. 9:46 More coffee is definitely required. 9:47 Hey look! The Wednesday Advice Smackdown! Still kind of crazy, that. 9:53 Ok, ok, OK! Will start with carry-on bag. 9:54 Contents are... Read more →


But If I Weren't Leaving You

So. I leave for California on Thursday, to attend this little bloggy-type shindig conference thing. (You may have heard about it? I don't know. It seems like it may have been discussed recently on a blog or two or four thousand, yawn.) I leave on Thursday, but would just like to point out that Noah does not leave on Thursday. In what seemed like a super swell idea a few months ago, Jason proposed taking a mini-vacation post-BlogHer. I leave on Thursday. He leaves on Saturday, after dropping Noah off with his grandparents. Then we return on Wednesday, refreshed and invigorated from a few blissful days of sleeping in and champagne for breakfast and also sleeping in. (Jason: Also sex! Amy: Okay, but only if it doesn't impose on the sleeping in.) Now that the trip and the reality of non-refundable airline tickets are upon us, this does not seem like such a super swell idea. It seems like a HORRIBLE IDEA. THE WORST IDEA WE EVER HAD, AND PEOPLE, WE PAINTED OUR LIVING ROOM ORANGE. So I have lately been dealing with this absolutely horrible, terrible idea of ours (we also painted our front door purple. PURPLE!) by pretending... Read more →


City of Mine

Yesterday I had a meeting down in Georgetown -- the part of Georgetown where foot traffic kind of dies and there isn't a beauty product to be purchased for several blocks. I took the bus, because I am Industrious and Independent, and as I was walking (okay, more like tottering gingerly over the cobblestones in my stupidly high heels) towards my destination I passed a man who had just parked his car. A very nice, newish Acura. With leather interior. And Virginia plates. He unloaded some milk crates from his trunk onto a little hand truck. The milk crates were stuffed full of newspapers and plastic grocery bags. A cardboard sign and a beat-up Big Gulp cup were attached to the crates with a bungee cord. As he stepped away to feed the meter, I got a better look at the sign. HOMELESS VET. HUNGRY PLEASE HELP. GOD BLESS. I stopped and stared at him. He was wearing ripped jeans and several flannel shirts despite the broiling heat and humidity. I watched him swipe a credit card through the high-tech meter, pocket his receipt and then merrily make his way up M St., up to where the sidewalks are a... Read more →


The Kind of Thing I Should Probably Keep to Myself

I just watched Blue's Clues. By myself. While Noah was napping. And yeah. I knew exactly where the remote was. Today's question: What does Blue want to buy at the store? Today's clues: Numbers, lines and a block of wood. So I was thinking, okay, obviously the lines go on the wood, although I was a little thrown by the lack of a mirror, but the continuity errors on this show do kind of drive me nuts sometimes (how many doors to the backyard ARE THERE, especially since the front of the house is approximately six feet wide, and also, on the "Bedtime Business" episode they made a huge fricking deal about the special notebook that was soft and puffy like a pillow, yet everytime we saw Joe draw a clue it was OBVIOUSLY just the regular old paper notebook, and yeah, I did write a letter, like, what are we supposed to believe it's some kind of "magic notebook" or something? Jesus.), so um. I was willing to overlook the lack of a mirror. The numbers kind of confused me, unless they were a measurement for just how much blow Blue wanted to buy, or possibly she didn't want... Read more →


Recycled

Gah! The cursor! It blinks! The page! It is very white and blank! Lately I have been suffering from the deadly combination of Writer's Block + Unbelievable Laziness. I have topics all picked out and lined up neatly in my brain (Things We Have To Fix Before We Can Move, or the Ballad of the Sort-of-Broken Toilet; Adventures in Homemade Baby Food That I Made, At Home, and the Various Manners In Which It Was Rejected; and finally My Dog: Do You Want Her?) and then I go to write about them and...and...huh. I wonder what is on TV? (HINT: PROJECT RUNWAY.) I wonder if I could beat my top score in Hexic? (HINT: I RULE! PWNED!) I wonder if I could take a nap? (HINT: YES.) And I wonder if I could mightily abuse the whole work-related purpose of having a part-time babysitter by spending all of Friday afternoon getting my hair cut and colored, which combined with babysitting costs meant the whole afternoon cost a bloody fucking FORTUNE, despite being just one day after I learned that my highest-paying freelancing gig is gone, over and done with, andwhile I don't mind the "less work" part, I was shocked... Read more →


Bah

Stupid TypePad was down for most of the day yesterday, leaving me unable to post or even to comment that I couldn't post. Trust me, I was just as sick of that nanny entry as you were. Oh, she has a nahhhhny now, a nahhhny for her one whole child, ain't life just grahhhhnd for her, the stupid spoiled whore. (No, I don't know why I imagine y'all with bad British accents either, but I kind of do.) (You are also prone to pinching imaginary monocles when you talk.) Hi. Yeah, I may still be drunk. Because I was last night, obviously, because when I woke up this morning I found the following typed up in a Word document: TypePad hass been down for hours an hours an OUR. ERS. now. Want to write a durnk post about about Soyouthinkyoucan (beat) DANCE! Boom chicka wow! Exspecially about what's her name the judge with the face that DOESN'T MOVE and you can ALWAYS SEE HER BOTTOM TEETH and when she tallks it's like her actual vocal cords are the ONLY thing not Botoxed all to hell. Can you imagine being known as the middle judge on a Simon Cowell produced show... Read more →