So remind me to tell you about the time AB Chao bought me a shot of bourbon and drunk-dialed Heather Armstrong. And then promptly shoved the phone at my drunken ass while I shrieked in panic.

I JUST WANTED A PICTURE. YOU CAN'T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE.

Later, I burst into drunken tears at the table while explaining to all the other lovely DC Design Camp attendees how AB and I know each other because you guys. You guyyyyyyssss. This. This right here. This lady and you people and the Internet and blogging and the ENTIRE PATH OF MY LIFE, plus also the universe and everything.

Yes. I am very fun at parties. Always bring a towel, mostly because I will definitely spill something.

(Yesterday it was coffee. I got up mid-session to refill my coffee and unscrewed the lid on an apparently still very full to-go container and coffee just fucking erupted out of the thing, all over me and the floor and like, inside drawers and cabinets and shit. And once again, I stood there doing little else besides PANICKED SHRIEKING because I have no coping skills.)

LAY OFF ME I'M TRYING.

My point is that I had a fantastic weekend. Like, teh best. I learned so much and had even more fun. There was much laughter and champagne (sabering!) and cupcakes and really inappropriate jokes about grommet-top curtains and vagina baskets. My brain is full of so many awesome decorating ideas (I am going to rearrange the SHIT out of some furniture, people) and my phone is full of awesome new contacts/future drinking buddies who are all mysteriously flashing me metal horns and/or their cleavage. 

Plus, on the Metro ride home, I totally got hit on. Like "what kinda pics u got on dat cameraaaaa phone, hot mom lady" hit on. I have not been flirted with that hilariously (or, okay, at all) in ages. He lost my heart (and my smokin' mom ass) when he said he was only down with "ladies marryin' laaaadies, but not like, dudes, cuz gross." I was like, UR FACE IS GROSS. Also, how did we even get on this topic? Also also, I do not believe that you are a male model in from Los Angeles. I would suggest a better cover story, seeing as it clearly did not get you anywhere with the laaaaadies and you're here desperately trying to pick up a bedraggled mother of three on the Red Line at like, 7:45 pm. Hot Mom Lady, OUT. Because she's really tired, and this is her stop.

Anyway, if you're in the Chicago area I highly recommend attending the mini camp in December. Buy AB a shot of bourbon and tell her to drunk dial me.