Me and my new shoes are back from my first-ever BlogHer. (The shoes were my initial foray into the non-stiletto category, since I knew I'd be doing a lot of walking at the conference. I was so proud of myself for this bit of common sensery, that when I purchased them I sent my friend an e-mail saying, "I just bought sensible shoes. Does this make me a grown up?" And she wrote back, "No. It makes you a lesbian.")
Which makes perfect sense, actually, because I am in love with the awesome women I met there. (Although, not really in that way. Except for Padma Lakshmi, who is very likely describing my physical characteristics to a police sketch artist as I type this.)
It's not my fault she's uptight.
I'll be recapping my experience in a series of posts about meeting blogging idols, running a race through NYC at the crack of dawn, getting in touch with my feelings about lunch meat, hosting a rib party at the Brazil Nut lounge, discussing promotional strategies like the Metamucil-tini (patent pending), hunting down my granite counter top at the hotel lost and found, and sharing with you all of my networking tips because I'm excellent at it. And by "excellent" I mean "god awful."
Also? The New York Hilton completely came through. Our room had a view of the Empire State Building and Radio City Music Hall, we were greeted by champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries delivered to the room, and two different Hilton representatives checked in with us throughout the stay to make sure everything was going smoothly and that we were comfortable. It was wonderful. And has made living with me and my renewed set of expectations a real treat in the past two days.
One of the reps, Julie, even said that if there was anything we needed, to please let her know. Which, of course, led to a running joke in our room about us "calling Julie" about everything. Over the four days we were there, we picked up the phone and pretended to share the following needs with Julie:
"Julie, Amanda is hogging the remote"
"Julie, the sirens outside are loud. Make them stop."
"Julie, this CSI is a repeat."
"Julie, I want to hear your Arnold Schwarzenegger impression."
"Julie, tell me I'm pretty."
"Julie, I'm in New York. I suppose I should score some hookers and blow?"
"Julie, should I wear the strappy black sandals or the platforms?"
"Julie, can I borrow fifty bucks?"
Will recap (with photos) soon,