How I Imagine My Week End at BlogHer Might Go Down

That's me second from the right.

Every great story has a beginning people, and this could be ours.

Picture the Hilton.

Emerging from various modes of transportation throngs of ladies approach the entrance “Almost Famous” style with Led Zepplin’s Misty Mountain Hop blaring for full effect. You also have the option of a helicopter drop a la’ Woodstock, but I was too young to witness that firsthand so I’m not sure how it works.

Can I be Penny Lane?

There is a lot of fist punching, high fiving and hugging as people find out for the first time that the mommy blogger they’ve been following for three years is a seventy year old parole violator with a working knowledge of explosives and  mean martini making skills.

I can mix a mean drink!

Drinks are consumed and laughs are had as all regularly scheduled programming goes down the shitter.

 Vapid brings an entire travel bar we can use after last call. We end the evening wearing ponytails, glitter and find polaroids the next day depicting us being carried by what appears to be an ice giant.

The Bloggess sets up shop with her new intern and legions of followers NEAR the bathroom because the confines and stench of the actual facilities are too much to bear. She sends us forth to the buffet to procure food and drink for her new area and we all bask in the glory of having had a Bloggess sighting while being asked to actually DO something of value for her.

We get halfway there and forget our mission.

Elly’s organized chicken faceoff is about to take place in the pool so in we go, drinks and all. Elly and I are able to pull off a victory due to a last minute hat trick involving a distraction by Destructicorn.

This is one of the few images I could find depicting anything resemblng a chicken fight. Weird right?

Ry and Amanda go down. And by that I mean FALL DOWN ya perv. They have their revenge in the form of a dance-off where Elly and I learn that there are just some moves that only people from Connecticult can master. We are left defeated and spent on the multi-colored light up floor.


I enlist the help of my newly found gem Hellachella to fashion me three muppets in the likeness of Sting, Stewart and Andy so I can go up to my room and reinact my own warped version of the Police reunion tour. Anyone who has seen her zombie sock monkey knows that this will be a raging success.

We end like a house on fire with destroyed rooms, sullied reputations and terrible hangovers.

Weeping, we sing one last version of The Eagles “Desperado” (why , we are not sure) and part ways- until next year.

Vapid’s Corvette  screetches around the corner into the sunset.

What happens at BlogHer STAYS at BlogHer

There were like 400 more people I was supposed to fit into this case scenario but I got lazy and tired and my mind stopped working.


Filed under 1, blogher, buffoonery, imagine if everyone hates me, tomfoolery

23 responses to “How I Imagine My Week End at BlogHer Might Go Down

  1. Hey, my friend will be there. It’ll be a phenomenal time. More so if you run into her (

    As long as there’s dance-off videos, you can’t possibly go wrong.

    • dufmanno

      I’ll look her up and see if she wants to join the posse or maybe another dance off is in order?
      Either way it’s a win if I don’t lock myself in my room and cry.

  2. dude, that is one scary chicken fight picture. if you and elly even begin to resemble that – I’m white flagging it with the stage moms.

    • dufmanno

      I know! I was having a hell of a time finding anything that didn’t involve playboy bunnies on each others shoulders playing chicken naked for Hef.

  3. I should tell you that people from Connecticult do not dance.

    We sway back and forth. And tap our feet. Badly. Very badly.

    This was great by the way.

    • dufmanno

      Nice try. Don’t think I’m not aware of your ruse. I’ve seen you guys break out the moves on the floor with no prior warning and a meek “oh, I couldn’t! I’m a TERRIBLE dancer”
      Next thing you know you’ve got out your tap shoes, matching Fairfield pant sets and killer instincts.
      I’ve never been fortunate enough to catch the “sway and tap” but something tells me you do a mean white mans overbite.

      • the meanest this side of Jersey sistah… it’ll sway and tap you right back to the District… where I’m sure no one sways.. or taps. in fact – STOP SMILING.

  4. dufmanno

    My “running man” is something to behold as is my “sprinkler”.
    I was going to save the one where I dance like a character from Peanuts for the end but I think I might cut it from the routine because it looks like I’m having a seizure.

  5. I can rock the Kid n’ Play. I’m not worried bout those CT gals. We can take ’em. I’d like to vote that we change OUT of our swimsuits before the dance off.

  6. avapidblonde

    I swear to god I am not a 70 year old parole violator!

    And sadly…well you know the tragedy that befelled the Ice Giant…its a pitty!

    I agree with Elly…about changing out of swim suits before the Dance Off Pants Off!

    Hopefully by August I will be used to my new hair and I won’t be a panic stricken mess anymore!

  7. avapidblonde

    And I am totally going to wear that yellow jump suit the girl is wearing in th Kid and Play vid.

  8. I just bought a ticket….

    I’m bringing glitter and I’m not afraid to use it.

    • dufmanno

      I suspect blogher 2010 might be an epic year. Then again I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been to one before. It could totally suck compared to previous ones and I’d be bragging about how much fun we made it.

      • avapidblonde

        Sweet Baby Jeezus….yay! I will bring glitter, a travel bar but Amanda needs to bring her blender still, some xanax….lets see, what else?

  9. You didn’t even look for chicken photos, did you?

    Dude, right here.

    You lazy bum.


  10. Pingback: Vajazzling (and the Other Weird Things People Send Me) | BugginWord

  11. Hi. I’m a dude. I can’t come.


    Eh, I have a feeling I’d just wind up holding purses and being sent to get things. I’ll be in the garage.

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