I don’t get the Squee.

The Squee of Blogher, that is. “The community for women who blog.” They have a big conference every summer. I think last year was the first year I had heard of it, even though I’ve been blathering away on my blahg for five years now. This year, the conference was in San Francisco. One of my favorite places on earth outside of Fin Family Moominbeach. Did I go? Of course not. I think I wrote before that if I had the time and the cash to fly to Cali this summer, I would not be staying in some fancy hotel. And I wouldn’t be going to panel discussions with famous bloghers and I *certainly* wouldn’t be attending all the fashionable parties or buying makeup or fancy shoes or whatever. Actually, I don’t really buy makeup or shoes. Nope. I would be sleeping on my little urchin’s hand-me-down couch and eating home-made avocado sandwiches and walking everywhere.

’cause I just don’t really quite get it. If you are on the blogosphere and you read any of the mommy blogs — and I read a few — you *know* about this conference. And all of the squeeing when bloggers meet up with other bloggers face-to-face. And something called “swag”, which is a new term to me but sounds like more crap to schlep home and find places to put. And then after it’s all over, all of the drama comes out. Who didn’t get invited to what. Who snubbed who. I’m sorry but that part of it all sounds like junior high to me. And boy oh boy did I *hate* junior high. Can’t we be finished with that already? Anyway, I am even more boring in real life than I am on my blog. I do *not* mingle successfully unless I am drunk and I like to drink but I do not like to get drunk because I also like to get up early in the morning (*really* early) and walk. Miles.

But I’m still curious about this Blogher organization. Why would I need any more than the little community of readers that I already have? So, today when I was surfing around in between chores and trips to Haas Transmission et al, a little survey popped up. Popups are one of the banes of my existence as a web designer but this one was from Blogher! They want *my* opinion??? Wow! I don’t know why, but I thought they actually might want my opinion about oh, you know, *blogging* or something. After all, I have been blathering away for five years now, roight? So I clicked the Continue button.

And guess what? It asked me about a quazillion questions about FURNITURE and where I like to buy mine and what PRODUCT LINES (???) of furniture fit my style!!!! People, I DO NOT BUY FURNITURE! I do not shop! Style? My “style” is Early In-law/Student Ghetto. Stores? I do not go to Kohl’s ever. I participate in an occasional dog Halloween costume purchasing expotition to the Houghton Lake WalMart. I’ve hated Sears ever since they went out of their way to *not* sell me a washing machine 24 years ago. I occasionally make a mad dash through Macy’s on my way to pick up a battery or whatever at the Apple store. Tar-jay? Oh, okay, I probably spent about $5000 bucks there during xmas in March Mouse’s move to her new apartment. Nice dishes. Haven’t been there since. Furniture!?!?! We buy new furniture even less frequently than we buy automotive vee-hickles and don’t ask me about automotive vee-hickles today if you know what’s good for you. The couch I am currently sitting on has got to be over 50 years old. My husband’s entire family has been sick on it. I know that because it was a major point in his pitch to convince me we should adopt it. And heck, we’ve had it for over 20 years now and *I* have been sick on it too. For five whole blasted days. It is the piece of furniture that is closest to the Blue and Only Bathroom.

So I was really kind of incensed about all this hype and I was looking around at the Blogher site and I am not interested in John Edwards’s affair and what every last pundit has to say about it. They ALL have affairs! My kitchen knife is at the ready and maybe we SHOULD run Paris Hilton for president, fer kee-reist. And then I saw MYSELF! Kayak Woman! Right there in the little zeitgeist “Blogher Community”. Totally scared the bejabbers outta me! How did I get on there? Well, last summer, when I first heard about Blogher, I created a lame little profile out there. I realized at the time that I was one of about a brazillion, so I promptly forgot about the whole thing. I think the pic at the top of this post is a better picture of me anyway. And after all of this, I am exhausted so I guess I should just shut up now and go play with my Whack ’em tablet or something. But I am just not much of a squee-er and I don’t buy furniture. And Kevin Loo*, where are you?

* Name intentionally misspelled to protect the innocent from the Google.

One Response to “I don’t get the Squee.”

  1. Dog Mom Says:

    Haas Tranny, AGAIN??!?!?!?! *sigh* Silver bullets & wooden stakes, I tell ya!!! Those’re the only ways to kill the Undead. Or destroy their braaaaaaaaaaains (if they are zombies – another form of Undead). Try draping it with ropes of garlic and crucifixes….. and maybe draw a pentagram around it with salt or something….. sugar in the tank might help, too…..