Naturally, 2010 has transitioned into the year of blogosphere firsts.
Among the ever-growing list is my decision to attend BlogHer 2010 in New York City in August.
I figured, for the sake of those lucky schmucks in the same first-voyage-boat as I, I’d hand you an oar in the form of a guide so I’m not the only broad rowing. I mean, these guns are pretty svelt, but a little assistance is greatly appreciated. I may kiss you. We’ll see how that goes. Just quit being such a lazy ass alright?! Good.
1. Curb Your Anxiety.
I don’t care how you need to curb it, but do. I realized the need to throw Lunatic Jess in the trunk bound and gagged, back in, oh, JANUARY! Now I know I haven’t quite mastered the science of time travel so this reference to JANUARY is pretty obsolete and could surely be omitted from this entire Hitchhiker’s Guide To Surviving The BlogHer Galaxy, but how else would I have incorporated “bound and gagged” into the post? Don’t answer that. The sense of urgency in and of itself is enough to make an anxiety-sufferer…well…suffer. I kid you not when I say every financial obligation (aside from spending cash) requires, at minimum, an eight month advance. Women are insane and fear the inability to be drunk and awkward in the presence of other drunk and awkward women. Like REALLY fear it. Don’t be anxious, just know that that’s the way the cookie crumbles. If you need me, I’ll be nervously eating the cookie crumbs straight off of the linoleum.
2. Buddy System.
Get a buddy…or seven…at least. At Bloggy Bootcamp, though on a much smaller scale, I was forced able to break away from the two buddies I went with to mingle with a bunch of new bloggers I never even knew existed. I was cool with it, but also happened to have a panic attack before Ted Rubin took the stage. That blew. But…BUT…I had my buddy system to fall back on. Some Lexapro and some candy bar binging in our hotel room (trust me, it was only because there was no whiskey at my disposal) and I was back on the horse. Focus on having at least one buddy to travel/shack up/eat/drink/giggle/freak out with and you’ll be just fine. I think.
3. Take The Party Plane.
I’m centralizing this point for those of us who live anywhere West of the Mississippi who will be traveling, essentially, across the whole country for the conference. Even if you haven’t interacted with anyone who’s on The Official Party Plane flight…scratch that. You should know them. See back up a few paragraphs, under point numero uno, where I expressed the urgency equivalent to that of an ugly wildabeast in heat? Yeah, you’ve got a good 2/3 of a year to engage the crap out of the umpteen million bloggers that will all be awkwardly drunk together on a cross country flight. (Virgin America…bless their hearts.) To find the bloggers cool enough to gang up rally together for the travel side of the weekend, follow the #partyplane hash tag on Twitter. Or don’t.
4. Be Anal.
Don’t “Be AN Anal.” Just be anal. Get organized. Know what to pack, how to pack, what not to pack, where you want to go, how much you’re going to spend (unless you’re a freak of American economic nature and have oodles of extra money just kickin’ it on your credenza or in your spare mattress in the spare wing of your spare guest house on your badrillion acres of spare land. yeah. unless you’ve got that going on.), who you want to meet, what sessions you want to attend. All of that good stuff. Don’t be aimless, but don’t be afraid to let it change either. I know it’s on your printed and bound and gagged itinerary you’ve distributed to your roommates, fellow Virgin America passengers, cabbie, and concierge, but the world, contrary to popular belief, will not implode if lunch does not occur promptly at 11:24:39 on Friday, August 5, 2010. Pinky swear.
5. Have A Blast.
For the crowd I’m rolling with, this conference serves as a break from the day-to-day duties of motherhood/wifehood/womanhood. (Sidenote: I will not be partaking in The Shed during this trip…thank goodness…for you) Unless you’re there to become an affiliate, build your brand because Whoziwhatzit, Inc. is expecting you to…by paid contract, treat this time as a vacation. You deserve it. Even if your other half moans and groans and grumbles and grunts at whatever is least appealing to them about your getting away for a few days. (Sidenote again: Husfriend has not made any unprovoked noises…’specially since he and Nugget get to steal away to the Jersey Shore while I’m playing in The City…just in case…and to see the family…that too.)
There’s my guide. Straightforward-ish and rookie-esque.
Basically, I can’t wait to see it all first hand. From the horror stories to the blissful tales shared by friends I’ve only yet to meet beyond my keyboard, there’s not a second I won’t be soaking things up. Fear this knowledge if you will, but rest assured I’ll probably be the only one intentionally doing topless headstands in tighty whities on my hotel room bed for the cameras. There’s not much more blackmail you can get than that. It’s not blackmail if I soberly volunteer though is it?! Hmm…
See you in Saint…I mean NYC!