The Space Between: My BlogHer Recap, As Told to Balki Bartokomous

I'm sure that by now many of you have read through umpteen BlogHer posts about the conference itself and the amazing women, and the experience of it all, and blah di blah.

And it's NOT that I'm discounting that, at all, because the conference was great, as were the attendees, and the experience, and blah di blah, but like I said, there are plenty of people who've already written about that. And really, what could I personally add to the discussion, other than putting the whole thing to song, specifically, "We Didn't Start the Fire?" (Sample lyric: "Keynote speakers, unicorn cake, barf in hallways, swag debates, pretty ladies, camera flashes, CheeseburgHer haaaaats.")

(Like Elton John, my gift is my song, people.)

ANYway, as is apparently my habit when I visit Chicago, I shall tell you all about my experience in the form of a fake Q&A session with everyone's favorite Chicago son, Balki Bartokomous!

Hallo, Metalia! Let's start at the beginning. How was your flight? I know you dislike flying.

Actually, Balki, it was great! It's amazing how much SHORTER the same flight can feel when you're not accompanied by a one-year-old and a three-year-old. Both of whom, you know, happen to belong to you. Of course, despite the smooth flight, I still felt compelled to perform my patented Plane Moves, such as Meaningful Takeoff Prayers, Follow-Up Discussions with Self About the Safety of Air Travel, and of course, Deep Breathing Whilst Gripping Armrest.

They--along with my classic habit, Remaining Conscious So As To Singlehandedly Keep Plane Aloft, You're WELCOME, Fellow Passengers--were obviously the reasons for my safe departure and return.

I came to America on the back of a wagon with a goat in it, you know. And then a boat. I had this adorable sign that read--

This isn't ABOUT you, Bartokomous. Make with the next question.

FINE. [Grumbles something in his native tongue.] How were your roommates?

Oh, Balki. They were great. The only one I hadn't met before was Slynnro. I briefly had my doubts about her...



...but that soon dissipated, and I felt comfortable enough to steal her Chocolate Chex (yum), discuss our respective chestal regions, and perform a Chicago-style impromptu song and dance routine for her and Ali about a Hanes t-shirt bag. There were high kicks involved, is what I'm saying, and maybe a moderate amount of strutting. I don't do that for just anyone.



I understand you saying that you danced, but I do not understand what you mean by this t-shirt bag? In my country, people wear shirts. They do not turn them into bags!

Welcome to America, pal.



(Thank you, Tutugirl, for the picture!)

Although I have to say, I'm truly just as confused as you were. Hence my song and dance for Ali and Slynnro.

America is crazy!

That's not in the form of a question, Balki, but I'll allow it so I can agree, and say that that's why it's so strange that aforementioned roommate Ali is (temporarily) moving to America THIS WEEK. NOT that I'm complaining, mind you, for I love her to pieces. She's my pop culture/humor twin, and she and I share the strange and unspoken bond that comes from attending umpteen years of Jewish day school.



(And hey! There's Casey! Who is--without question--one of my most favorite people, online or off, and does one HELL of a...Casey? What is this costume? Mad Men? Pleasantville? What?)

Isn't my adopted hometown of Chicago lovely?

It IS, Balki! And that's why I was incredibly fortunate to have my third roommate, Kristin (who lives there) as our guide. She (and her adorable accent) led us around, taking me, Darcey, and Ali to lunch at an 80's-themed restaurant. (Which, to quote Barney Stinson: "I never knew it until now, but I always dreamed of that.") We also got pedicures together, where we, separated by cruel fate--and, you know, pedicure chairs--resorted to texting each other from inches away.



We also hopped over to see the hair makeover of the lovely Loralee, one of the friends I "knew" from her blog, but hadn't yet met. I know I'm sounding repetitive here, but: love her. LOVE HER. See?



It was there that I also officially became Heather B.'s Staff Photographer.



That sounds like fun. Apropos of nothing, you don't seem to strike me as a person who'd steal.

Oh, Balki, you are sadly mistaken. While attending the Ragu-sponsored lunch at BlogHer, I...I...look, I have no idea how this happened, but I apparently went into a fugue state and absconded with (SHOUT OUT TO MEME) some cutlery wrapped in a linen napkin. I found it in my bag later in the day.

(Picture stolen from Ali)

Sorry, Ragu! I returned it later. Please don't come after me! I love your sauce! I love your sauce! I hate stealing! It's bad!

Metalia, speaking of things you despise, can you do your oft-discussed American Apparel ad impression?

Sure!

That is spot-on.

Oh, I know Balki. The only thing that would have made it more perfect would be if I could have somehow acquired these American Apparel high-waisted acid washed hot pink shorts.

What the--THOSE ARE MY JOGGING SHORTS!

Okay, you know what Balki? Some things are better left unsaid. Continue with your questions!

How were the parties?

Amazing! Sparklecorn was the highlight...







...and I was also thrilled and honored to attend a few other events:







...as well as the opportunity to have lunch with the sweet and gorgeous Whoorl family. Sarah once referred to me as her "internet soul sister," and I daresay it's true.

I wish I could have been there! Alas, my cousin Larry and I got into a situation involving all manner of wacky shenanigans. Speaking of shenanigans, did you attend the famed CheeseburgHer Party?

Indeed, Balki. Indeed. And don't worry, God! I did not even TOUCH a cheeseburger. However, here are a few of my favorites:

(Picture credit: Yvonne, CheeseburgHer Mastermind Extraordinaire, lover of mongerie, and dear friend.)

(Picture credit: Ali again. Whose face is COMPLETELY OBSCURED by a McDonald's bag, which cracks me up to no end.)

The "afterparty" if you will, consisted of me, Ali, Slynnro and (drunk, HILARIOUSLY drunk) Angella, (yet another person I've "known" and loved for ages, despite never having met) sprawled across the bed in the Presidential Suite (the site of CheeseburgHer), talking about everything and nothing until the wee hours, laughing until our faces hurt.

And for me, that's what I care about when it comes to BlogHer. Yes, the conference is great, but it's these little moments I've shared-- the 2 AM chats with old and new friends, the spontaneous dance parties (um, of one), the non-stop laughing--these things that are the space between The Big Events that truly made the weekend, for me.

Awww. Do you have any regrets?

Yes. That that damn Ali never taught me the full "Thriller" Dance. I'M STILL WAITING, MARTELL.