Snippets of BlogHer
July 30, 2007
So much to write, so few intact brain cells.
I met the Sarcastic Journalist for the first time and as we stepped into the elevator she grabbed my boob. That is how her people say hello.
And so I told her the truth.
“They come off, you know, you can touch them whenever you want.”
Tops on my agenda today was pooping. Those shutters at the hotel were not exactly conducive to uh, going. Luckily I lived on a mostly liquid diet. Is this TMI? Probably. I am a sharer.
My panel was good, except that I wish we didn’t talk so much about monetizing and advertising on blogs. Holy crap we didn’t just beat that dead horse, we dragged it around the square and stoned it until it no longer resembled a horse, but something else like steak. Or um a dead bloody thing.
Speaking of steak, I went out to dinner one night at this ridiculously expensive restaurant. The food was good. But I don’t think I have even been in the situation where we have all passed our money down the table and had someone say, “We are a little short.” And had that “little short” be $600. Honestly I wanted to call the waiter back over and get more meat to wrap in my napkin and take home in my purse. I already carry non-dairy coffee creamer in there. Might as well start practicing for my geriatric days now. Now where are my Chicklets?
Oh, back to my panel. Lena and I kept looking at each other and mouthing, “OMG she is like really, really smart.” Yes, Catherine uses big words. And somehow worked Marx and the true definition of politics into the discussion. Lena and I were both feverishly scanning our brains for important people to quote. But, uh, yeah. And so I rambled on and on and used my hands too much, because did you know that when you speak on a panel everyone looks at you? Yes, shocking, right?
Oh I did say a little something about Pay Per Post. And I stand by it. I was asked if there was anything that I would not do in terms of advertising on my blog or doing reviews. I don’t do reviews at all, except for the occasional book review. My reason for this is simple, I think writing well written reviews of products is an art I don’t posses. Now if someone wants to send me a car or something for keeps I may just hone these skills.
And I answered. Not as someone who works for BlogHer, or who has ads on my site, but as a blogger and writer. Places such as Pay Per Post do not pay a living wage, end of story. Being paid $5 for a post is ridiculously low. My point during the panel was that when people accept terms like that for their work, they are devaluing their work and that of other writers. You, all of you, imagine my sweeping arm motion here, are worth more than that. Unless you like working for slave wages.
I didn’t have time to fully get into the discussion during the panel, but I would have called out Club Mom too for other reasons. I am not pointing fingers at specific bloggers. When some one writes post after post after post promoting products that they have no interest or personal knowledge of, the writing almost always lacks authenticity.
Moving on, but not for long I am sure.
During her session Heather B was responding to something about race and she in turn said, “Do you write as a white person? Are you constantly talking about how you are white or feel this way because you are white? No, then why should I?”
Spot on, Heather. Though for the rest of the weekend I prefaced most things with “I am a white woman and I really like this wine.” “I am a white woman and lit candles in the lobby at 7:00am is just too hip and trendy for me.”
Speaking of wine, I don’t think naming your wine OOOPS is the best in terms of marketing strategy. I just can’t think of anything good to go along with OOOPS.
“Ooooops, we meant to make good tasting wine.”
“Ooooops, we come in red, white, and rose”
“Ooooops, we taste better the more you drink.”
It reminds me of the Ford Aspire. “I Aspire to own a real car one day.”
One of the most touching moments for me was when Redneck Mommy
came over to meet me. I would have cried except that I was sitting with someone who was having an anxiety attack. And I am not sure could have been the voice of calm reason if I were crying too. Though maybe we could have started a club.
My kids are totally into all the schwag I brought home from them. (”You have walked 343 steps. Now go away and walk some more.” I left the dildo behind. No need to go there yet. Although a part of me thought of bringing it home and telling Miles that it is my penis that fell off. But then visions of the story being repeated entered my head and I thought this is really not a conversation I want to be having at my grocery store while I am trying desperately to check out without purchasing every candybar in the aisle.
And the answer to the post above is C. Proving what a big dork I am. I was trying to get the lanyard off from around my neck and the name tag portion swung around and hit me square in the eye. And my god, I have new respect for the blind or nearly sightless. Also I think I need glasses because my left eye is sort of blurry. It misses it’s other eye.
This afternoon I was laying in the couch– the eye injury is the perfect excuse to just lay there with my other eye closed. The children are slightly afraid of my eye patch. I think some of them think my entire eye is missing. I haven’t corrected them yet because… Hello??? nap for me. Miles suddenly put his finger up my nostril. Turned out he picked his nose and had nowhere to put it. So he stuffed it up my nose.
Yup, I am home.
(links and photos will be up soon. Soon being relative)
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