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My Profile
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone... - 2009-11-05
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11:13 a.m. - 2005-10-25
Good morning friends and cyber-neighbors! Traditionally this should be the linky squee entry. It may turn out to have some linky goodness, but my intention as of this moment is to simply spool. Or I will spool soon as I get Wolf on the bus and trim these stupid acrylics back several inches. Right now it feels like I'm trying to type with Siamese Temple Dancer finger cymbals on my clumsy digits and that simply won't do. (Musical interlude. Please talk amongst yourselves.) Okay. The claws are trimmed and the kid has trundled away on the long yellow limo. My son, btw, grew at least an inch while I was gone. He is now officially 'breast high'. And while I know there's no few people from this weekend's spree who are delightedly contemplating how yummy it would be to be 'breast high' on me too, let me say that it is considered child abuse to blind one's offspring with brassiere underwires. Even if you do it inadvertently as I did in the arrivals terminal of LaGuardia. Nothing like giving your kid a tight squeeze and gouging out one of his eyeballs to set the tone for a less than rapturous homecoming. Maiming aside, my guys were glad to see me and I, they. This is a marked difference from my return from last year's JournalCon where I so dreaded coming back to my bickering bitchfest of a marriage that I sat in the ladies room at Penn Station and cried myself into a nosebleed before getting on the train back to Podunkville. In fact, thanks to bad timing this year (the 3 hour time difference really threw me for a loop) I kept getting our machine instead of speaking to my men and Sunday night found me in the Westin lobby making a tearful collect call to Mike at 1:00am his time just to hear his voice and to tell him how much I missed him. (Awwwww.) I know, I know. Enough with the revolting honeymoonish gushing, you guys want to hear the dirt. You want to hear all the sordid drunken details. You want scandal and tales of debauchery. Sorry to disappoint, but I only got mildly debauched and the only scandal was how quickly the weekend flew past. CleavageCon 2005 was a complete and total blast. Never in the history of mammaries have so many fabulous boobies been assembled under one roof. I would like to thank all the chicks for making this weekend one of delicious eye-candy and for making this overdeveloped babe feel like one of the gang and not the hiss inducing freak of nature I am regarded as in my usual place here in the Land That Puberty Forgot. The sheer volume of vavoomy wonder was so staggering that I must give snaps to the straight guys for being able to form complete sentences at all. I know when I showed up at karaoke I was rendered mute for a few minutes and it was only with the help of several quickly consumed Jack and cokes that I was able to get a grip on my amok hormones and not go face first into Carol Elaine's splendiferous set. I wasn't the only one having a tough time staying on this side of decorum and heterosexuality, the lovely Weet sloped up to me at one point and blurted, "Oh. My. God! If you were a guy I'd so be grabbing your ass right now!" Then she demanded I remove the scarf I was wearing as a belt. She said she just wanted to borrow it for her Stevie Nicks karaoke number, but I think she might have been hoping my pants would fall down. The hopeful pimping didn't stop there. Giving lie to my rock-n-roll goddess exterior, I went into full Mom-mode and tried to sell my elder son to Erica. Only to be turned down nicely and reminded that she has issues about dating guys who are 2/3's her age. What can I say? She doesn't look 30 and I knew my son would prostrate himself at her feet and worship her as she deserves. So E, he turns 21 after the holidays and will be legal and all. Might you reconsider? In all seriousness, I would like to talk for a bit about the wonderful sense of community and fellowship this weekend. In almost every conversation there came a moment of complete connectivity and palpable relief to be with people who 'got it'. Articulate, literate and smart, the sheer joy of being with so many others who understand that family has nothing to do with DNA and everything to do with zest for life and willingness to open themselves emotionally via the Net, the JournalCon folk are my brothers and sisters. Spirit kin and soul cousins. Whether we are humping statuary or sharing the bitterest burdens of our lives I know I can count on you to provide what's needed and hope you know I'm here to give it back just as generously. I love you all. ~LA PS: Let no feelings be hurt. The saga and linkage continues in our next episode. There are more stories. There are many more stories indeed.
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