Aug
9
I forgot to tell you guys about the Marmaduke dog at BlogHer. Those of you who were there, you probably witnessed the magic that was this dog’s rear view, but for those who didn’t get a chance to enjoy, let me just tell you that this dog had the biggest nutsack I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, not that I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time cataloguing and comparing the testicles of various male animals, but if I had, this dog was surely the blue-prize winner. There they hung, a swinging spermsack metronome, fleshy and pendulous and oddly mesmerizing. I suppose the sight of this majestically-endowed dog was supposed to make me smile and think fondly of wholesome family cartoons, but my mind went to a helpless dark place and I saw a tiny cramped bar in Mexico, a woman with few inhibitions, and Marmaduke: masked, undignified, and pile-driving her from behind while a violent flesh-against-flesh slapping sound fills the air.
Why was there a Great Dane wandering BlogHer, you ask? Good question, and one I don’t have an answer to. I guess someone was promoting Marmaduke, the movie? Which I would rather rip off my own face Poltergeist-style than be forced to watch, although now I’m a little curious about whether they green-screened the giant balls for the PG rating or what.
In keeping with the inappropriate theme, this was in my BlogHer swag bag:
What time is it? TIME FOR SAUSAGE THAT’S WHAT TIME IT IS.
In conclusion, I leave you with an image that sums up my warm memories of the best sponsors of BlogHer. Oh, there were another companies whose products I enjoyed, but when I think back, misty-eyed, to this amazing weekend, my thoughts will inevitably turn to sausages and balls.
Aug
8
You can’t do it all at BlogHer. You can’t ignore the ubiquitous-for-a-reason advice about wearing comfortable shoes and not have your feet turn into raw hamburger by the second afternoon. You can’t explore the whole city while hanging out in a hotel. You can’t adequately hydrate yourself on Diet Coke and Red Bull. You can’t take good photos if you’re too lazy to haul your camera around. You can’t sneak off to your hotel room without feeling guilty for not taking advantage of every moment but oh god naptime. You can’t wear a Spanx product without announcing to literally every person in a ten mile radius that HEY CHECK OUT THESE FUCKING SPANX IT’S LIKE I’M A HUMAN SAUSAGE WOOO. Speaking of sausage, you can’t even remotely deal with the Jimmy Dean sponsor booth like a mature adult and of course you have to publicly deep-throat their featured product: a sausage on a stick.
You can’t spend luxurious amounts of time with everyone you’d like to and some people you will look for but never find. But the time you do spend with friends, the people you’ve known and brand-new faces, will be amazing, so good and fun, and your face and throat will ache from laughing.
I’ve been thinking about whether it’s worth it, this conference that requires so much travel effort and expense and seems to get exponentially larger and more unwieldy each year, and I think the answer has to be yes, because there’s just nothing else like it. BlogHer is expensive and chaotic and overwhelming and I love the shit out of it. I can’t wait for next year.
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