So dudes, my Weekend of Awesome began Friday night with a do for Kristin, put on by Smith Glaxo Kline who flew the lovely lady out here. Free cocktails and canapes. The end.
For the first time since the summer of 1991 I went to two separate events on the one night and got to meet the GORGEOUS (seriously, she’s HOT) Lynda and SPUNK (he really is but he’s GF is supermodelesque and I’m afraid she might come after me with a stiletto heel) David at the Nuffnang Icebreaker.
This was in a bar that became a nightclub, requiring me to get a stamp on my arm, a glowband for free drinks and had a bed as part of its decor. The end.
Saturday was the conference proper. HOLY CRAP dudes, women can squeal and hug and jump up and down like, a LOT.
I was in a right state about attending this event on a number of levels with my standard stream of consciousness going something like this:
1. What if I experience that sensation I always get where I am a lot happier to meet a person than they are me. Awkward.
2. What if I run and tackle someone and they don’t even know who I am. All that time imagining me in their house being funny? Totally wasted.
3. What if no one, NO ONE, wants to talk to me.
4. What if
5. What if
6. What if
7. SHIT totally forgot to take my meds.
I know. Idiot.
Of course from the first minute to the very very last I did not stop. It was AWESOME. I got to meet and TOUCH and totally inappropriately grope the people I adore – Tiff, Pixie, Kelley, Eden Eden EDEN!, the NDM, Saw Hole (who I went to uni with and had not seen in about 15 years), and so many many more people I’ve been gagging to meet.
Then there is just randomly introducing myself to people or joining people’s conversations becaues I.HAVE.NO.SHAME. but thereby meeting people I did not know and ZOMG how have those people not been in my life??? For example. I saw NDM in the pub where we went for a drink before the
free boozefest post-conference dinner (because clearly what we all needed was alcohol) and just sidled up to her and three people I had never met. Now I can not imagine my day without Squiggly Rick, Rebecca the Wrecker and An Idle Dad. They made up much of my day on Twitter but now I know their blogs. This could get hairy.
And I could just go on and on and on. Which could get tedious. Somewhat.
But I know what you are really dying to know is whether there were any typical moments of allconsuming stupidity or inappropriate behaviour/comments/involuntary body movement.
OF COURSE THERE WERE:
Tweeting about how inappropriate it was for Mark Pollard to be that good looking in a room of (mostly) married women only to come home and today, and while trying to find an email from someone else to find one from him and HOLY CRAP Mark Pollard is THAT Mark Pollard from McCann and headsmack what a wasted opportunity to not I don’t know, flog my blog?
Having a whole interaction with The Glowless about how her name couldn’t possibly be Lorraine. I mean LorRRAINE? Who’s called Lorraine these days and so on and so forth. Of course her name isn’t Lorraine but one of the beautiful fun PR girls running the event who’s food I’d scarfed and cocktails I’d downed is called Lorraine. And was standing right behind me.
This is why I’m not allowed out at night.
Regaling Lynda and Kruppy from Nuffnang with tales of my sex life, or lack thereof, tales of the sex life Chef would like us to have and even talking about what age you stop wiping your kids arse and how it totally depends if they’re the type to snap it off clean or leave a trail.
I know you know I am not kidding.
Then there was the whole Footloose incident which involved me hitting the dance floor with such vigour most of the photos are deemed not-fit-for-human-consumption due to the amount of my b.a.r.e. flesh being flashed as I fought a town for the right to dance.
For evidence of that debacle visit the Flikr group.
So in closing (seriously, is this not the longest blog post evah. And no photos!) I have to say, there is something I am very chuffed about. I was a part of the Crowdsourced Keynote and agonised FOR WEEKS if not MONTHS about which post I should read out. In the end I read Code Red. The reaction I got has been nothing short of making me giddy with delight and doing dangerous things to my ego. Next year I may just take the stage for myself.