A few months ago, my big tough Australian in-remission husband Dave and I were at BlogHer 2010 in New York. It was a triumphant holiday, kind of like, "FUCK YOU LIFE .... HE DIDN'T DIE!!!"
Dave and I were walking through a sea of bloggers at the Hilton, and it struck me that he had no idea who any of these people were. "Wow. You could get stuck in a lift with Dooce herself and smile politely and talk about the weather."
Part of the festivities one night involved Jenny from The Bloggess sitting at a table with an old-fashioned typewriter, banging out psychic poems for people. I *had* to get a personalised poem from her.
So I did.
She was so gracious and gorgeous, sitting there with her confidence hair extensions. She looked at me and said, "Hmmmmm, now what am I going to write about you?" I told her I was the Australian she met the night before, in the toilets. She remembered my thick fake-snake bangle (which I bought for $9 at Westfield Penrith) .... and she started tapping out my psychic poem/reading.
She gave it to me .... along with a sticker.
Is it strange that I really want to frame it?