SXSW Day Over: Uh. Oops.

Wait. What just happened?

I mean, I blinked a couple times, and then there was some business with the clocks, and I think I ate a taco, and now I am back home.

Oh. And my hair is hot pink. What?

Scene from a random blogger party where nobody was chopped up into tiny bits and sent down the garbage disposal, but thanks for your concern.

Okay, some other stuff is coming back to me now...laid-back chilling with readers and some fellow adorable rocktastic superfantastic bloggers on Saturday, somehow ambushing Jen into taking me shopping and drinking and cheese-plating in South Austin, where I stood in the bathroom line with Alan Cummings and THAT went just about as gracefully and suavely as you can imagine, and also Luke Wilson and Paul Rudd are really freaking hot in person but at least I did not hug them and then talk about peeing, so...like. Score.

Alan Cummings. And Jen's hand. Not pictured, and yet oh so obvious: A Lot Of Cocktails

Our panel went great, although considering who my fellow speakers were, how could it have not? I'm a little scared to listen to the podcast (not available quite yet, thank God), however, since more than several times I would just START TALKING before THINKING ABOUT TALKING. I mean, that's nothing new, but this time there was a microphone there to amplify all the blahblahblahblah lamejoke blah, followed by Asha or Tracey saying the exact thing I wish I had said instead.

If I ever get to the point where I can charge money for public speaking appearances, I am so going to charge a higher rate for an optional strip of duct tape over my mouth.

The breakfast of champions! Or at least people who forgot to change their damn clocks for &*%$#@! daylight savings.

Then, oh my God, we went to the Lonelygirl15 panel and I just about wiggled in my seat from my geeked-out energy. I mean...look. I TOOK VERY SMALL FAR AWAY PICTURES.

They uploaded an episode live! The dorkforce in this room was OFF THE CHARTS.

So perhaps you can then imagine my state of mind when this happened. The LG15 guys! Talking to me! They have my card! Which...I had printed in 2004 and includes zero contact info and a cryptic line about mittens. But still. They were so nice and seemed kind of surprised by my manic fangirling? Like I do not strike them as your typical Alternate Reality Gamer? And maybe quoting large chunks of the "LGPedia" was a little creepy?

Could we have more shit draped around our bodies?  Tools.
(Thanks to Zoot for being the official photographer of Big Moments in Computer Geekdom.)

Again though, they were so nice.  I am going to send them links to my bitchin' vlog. Which I do not have yet, but according to some of the folks on the "Rise of the Blogebrity" panel, video blogs are going to kill us old-fashioned text-based blogs so I better GET ON THAT.

(Eye roll. EYE FUCKING ROLL.)

Uh. What else? Tracey suffered from dehydration and exhaustion the first night and I beat that joke into the fucking ground. In fact, I still am, because I'm an asshole friend who was all, "Well, drink some water and lie down, I'm going out, text me!" Danny rocks, his wife is hot, Asha is just freaking lovely and I teared up anytime I thought about how much my friendship with Zoot means to me and how it eases from online to in-person so effortlessly. Except that I always call her Zoot instead of her real name. I can't help it. She's just so Zooty.

We're obviously up to something, although for some strange reason I cannot remember what it was.

Anyway. Sniff. Blubber. Memories.

By Sunday I missed Noah and home so much it was prickling a little, and by Monday the mere sight of a little boy who might possibly be Noah's age, give or take five years, physically hurt me.

I got home last night and Noah teared up, ran to Daddy and refused to even look at me.

I wonder if the hot pink hair had anything to do with it?

HAAAAAAAAAAA. Fucking poser.

And now I'm done. Must sleep. Out of diapers. Not sure child was bathed. Must go write on blogs. Monetize. Corporatize. Zzzzzzz.