Hello, I Love You, Won’t You Tell Me Your Name

Uhh, you mean someone else can pay for your trip? I want a refund.

Well, thank goodness that washed up news anchor from Baltimore I hired to impersonate me at BlogHer worked out. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that people hard up for cash are willing to take on just about any gig imaginable in a pinch.
I hope that bitch remembered the names and ages of my kids. 

Anyway, as we all know this weekend was the much-anticipated BlogHer shindig in NYC and after a series of ill-timed fits and starts that began with throat crushing traffic and ended with a mad dash to make an Acela train out of Union Station I skidded into town causing asphalt burns on my ass. 

And so begins a tale of an out-of-state internet rendezvous at a hotel that didn’t end up with the parents of the underaged girl pleading for her return on the six o’clock news. 

Please Kelly Jo, just come home, we LOVE you. 

To sum up, I can only seem to conjure one word. 

You may be wondering what this lesser version of the naked cowboy has to do with a blogging conference. I don't know.


I had a huge serving of everything that is right in this world. 

So while I am busy setting up fan clubs and erecting shrines and monuments to the goddesses that ruled the Hilton and the surrounding areas, I’m going to pause and say thanks for making it the superpower summit of funny and good. 

My husband got to hang out at the hotel bar with a wide assortment of exclusive call girls  and his lifelong dream was fulfilled when someone handed us a real live sexual aid. 

After regrouping, catching some sleep and debriefing my unemployed anchorwoman I will attempt a detailed retelling of the weekend that destroyed the BlogHer conference in one fell swoop and the women responsible. Stay tuned, story at 6. 

Slightly askew David Bowie enjoyed BlogHer.



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12 responses to “Hello, I Love You, Won’t You Tell Me Your Name

  1. yo that bitch didn’t remember the ages of your kids, but she was hot as shit. and a blast to party with. thanks for sending her. loved her aviators and julianne moore look. and what a voice! so compelling in a subdued anchor woman kind of way.

    best blogher post eva! the photos say it all. i so dug those paintings in whatever bar that was. bowie, the stones, dafoe, walken, marley, so fucking cool.

    and so are you. xoxoxo

    • dufmanno

      That lying bitch! I’m taking a huge chunk out of her wad of cash and she’s definately NOT going back in my place next year.
      She even had sex with my husband!
      I feel like my little grinch heart grew ten times larger by just meeting you! Well, that and you rocked the house. xoxoxox

  2. You should get at least half of your money back ’cause that bitch was LATE. Though I must concede she was a-frickin-dorable…even if she occasionally fell off her wedges.

    • Dufmanno

      We practiced that strut of hers over and over with mixed results so next year I’m dressing her in animal print flats and tube socks.

  3. What? I thought I was groping Julienne Moore the whole time! Well played, m’lady. Well played.

    • dufmanno

      You just never know who you’ve got your hands on until it’s too late. I gave a reach around to some hack that I could have sworn was David Sedaris but then I remembered that he doesn’t write blogs or like girls for that matter.
      I guess it pays to be the doppelganger of the funniest man alive.
      Still, you can grope me any time you like.

  4. *sigh* I am not even slightly repulsed by that Naked Cowboy. Okay, that’s a lie. No, it’s not. But, in my defense, I’ve had some, ok, several, margaritas. Come to think of it, I have a super sexy lamp…..have I told you about it…..? Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I missed it……the gathering of the hottest, most incredible bitches I want to meet, and I was gathered with numbnut, businessmen trying to argue with me when they paid me to tell them they were wrong to begin with. I need a Naked Cowboy…I mean another drink……yeah………

    • dufmanno

      I bet that Naked Cowboy sprawled out on the conference table singing sad country songs would’ve convinced your businessmen to wrap up the meeting in time for you to make NYC.
      We missed you very much, but you were there in spirit. Especially when we were drinking all that vodka.

  5. Pingback: “How to Be Alone”

  6. That anchorwoman lady was pleasantly foul mouthed and an extremely talented drinker.

    I liked her lots.

    • dufmanno

      I noticed she had only wonderful things to say about you as well.
      Sadly she stormed off after I cut her fees and I never got the sordid details.
      She did give me a speech about how I need to take my blog more seriously, ending with the infamous line at the end of The Shawshank Redemption ” Get busy living or get busy dying”.
      I’m not really sure what it means but whatever.

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