Abigail M. Schilling

"Have you ever noticed how interesting professional sports is? If there's one topic that I enjoy spending hours thinking about and ruminating upon, that is it. Every match or round or game is an endless source of deep and satisfying contemplation. I never tire of watching a player rounding the bases, crossing the threshold into the end zone, or beating another professional athlete into unconsciousness, and then obsessively dissecting and analyzing every detail. A night spent speculating on the outcome of a sporting event—Will the first team win? Or will it be the second?—is the most intellectually stimulating evening I can imagine."

Professional Sports is very interesting. Or so our new TiVo thinks.

We set the TiVo up just in time for the Olympics and that is pretty much all we've been watching (well, Olympics and The Hills and Project Runway) so TiVo's feature where it suggests things for us is a little confused.

Because it recorded all of ESPN for us.

"When I'm not watching and then thinking about sports, I enjoy listening to other sports enthusiasts talk about the sports that they watched. Most of all, I enjoy my peers' descriptions of certain feats of athleticism they've witnessed. In turn, I like to reply with a similar anecdote about something I have seen myself, and then follow with a historical precedent that parallels both. Hours go by like seconds when I'm involved in a discussion like this. Invariably, one of us will say, "That's one for the record books," and, though exactly which record books is never totally clear, it is a professional-sports insight that will always be true."

We LOVE LOVE LOVE the Olympics. We halt our lives for global athleticism, for American pride, for sell-out McDonald's commercials, for story packages with Weird Mary (props to Sizzle for the nickname), for MICHAEL PHELPS, for beach volleyball and synchronized diving and track and field and triathalons and archery and BMX and everything else our TiVo records. We are dedicated.

This does not mean we care about the World Poker Championship, TiVo. In fact, unless Lauren Conrad is sort of dating someone who plays, we don't care about poker ever. Also, we don't care about Little League. I spent most of my early life caring about hometown little league and I don't know how I could possible manage to watch it when I don't know anyone involved. Also, if my memory serves me correctly these kids don't even get to be kids because they're busy playing global little league. Blech. I'd prefer watching underage Chinese gymnasts thank you.

"Perhaps the most wonderful thing about professional sports is that I always have the option of watching well-dressed, highly paid people discussing sports on television if I don't necessarily feel like discussing sports myself. These men and sometimes women often have an interesting take on the week in sports, and it gives me a lot to think about. For example, there may be factors in the outcome of a sporting event that I had not considered, such as the wind speed or a bad decision by a coach. The sportscasters will put forth a conclusion, with which I will either agree or disagree, and then, if the occasion arises, I will share that insight or conclusion with others and assimilate it to my own canon of knowledge and analysis about professional sports."

In conclusion, DID YOU WATCH THE VOLLEYBALL LAST NIGHT? SO AMAZING.

Posted by Abigail at 12:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)
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One of the awesome things I got for my birthday was The Last Kiss soundtrack. According to the sticker on the CD cover it is "music selected by Zach Braff (Garden State)." I think it's so funny how marketers try to use old stuff to make you buy new stuff. Like with movies when it says "from the producers who brought you..." and really it's the studio that brought you that movie and really there is no connection besides the deep pockets. I don't think that's the case with this CD since Zach is totally the type to be all up in the soundtrack's grill, but he didn't actually write The Last Kiss so I'm curious.

However, back in the day when I would refresh refresh refresh over and over and over again Zach Braff's Garden State blog* waiting WAITING for him to post about how he reads all the comments, swoon, and about other things too like wrapping up filming or being famous or whatevs, I remember that he definitely mentioned Joshua Radin. Oh, look, there it is on the front page. Anyway, I went to Josh's myspace and was all swoony but since that was years ago I didn't have iTunes yet and never got his CD. Stupid.

*Remember 2004 when I was all up in Garden State's grill? Oh, 2004. WOW.

Fast forward to now where Josh is all over the soundtrack (evidence supporting ZB (Garden State)'s involvement, I suppose) and he is SO GOOD. I threw his songs onto a mix over the weekend and I love him. He's croony. So then I was thinking that it would be cool to see him in concert (in September of course) because I don't go to enough concerts and I really want to change that. Interestingly enough, my buddy Josh is going to be here this weekend. It's like it was meant to be.

Except TicketMaster was selling the tickets so maybe it wasn't. Because a $17.50 ticket suddenly became a $30 ticket BECAUSE THAT IS HOW MUCH IN FEES WAS ADDED.

So, Joshua, have fun this weekend playing to the home crowd, I'm sorry I won't be there. I have to take care of myself and also save some money. But that doesn't mean I love you, okay?

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The truth of the matter is that I am submerged in one of the more traumatizing events in my life and my face is disfigured because it is swollen from all the crying. I'm definitely a pathetic mess and I only say this now because later when you find out that this coincided with my birthday you don't start pitying me. Because a) that will just make me cry more, and b) I'm not even pitying myself so please don't, and c) I had an Epic Birthday Party with people who don't cause traumatizing life events and so I will be okay.

The real reason I'm here is to talk about Michael Phelps, my boyfriend. I know that last week I was swooning all over Ryan Locthe and pretending I loved him best but that was only because he had just won a gold medal and you know how I am about those things. In real life, I can't stop talking about Phelps. He won a gold medal EVERY DAY LAST WEEK. Swoon. Dooce said it best when she said, "Interestingly, recent international events have brought to my attention a certain special someone who has so stolen my heart that he has knocked off two of the previous men on my list and now occupies both of those positions." Of course, my list is now 2.5 David Cook and 2.5 Michael Phelps. (I'll break down the scoring later this week.)

I've been a little verbose about my love for him, (Did you hear, he is the Greatest Olympian Ever?!) and last week my entire Facebook page was dominated by him. Well, not actually him, because he APPARENTLY doesn't have a FB account (Michael, are those gold medals too heavy to type with?), but everything on Facebook that is him-ish.

Here are some pictures. SWOON.

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Really, though, for over 24 hours I have been so care free. There were a couple incidents yesterday morning (losing my lip gloss (read: security blanket) and having to rearrange my schedule to go buy more, and then thinking I forgot my wallet (which I hadn't) but rescuing myself by finding an emergency credit card in my bag (which was TOTALLY THERE that time I had to buy gas with pennies)) but by the time I got my eyebrows waxed and was back at my office, I was breezy. BREEZY!

I wasn't meditating on anything. I wasn't worried about who would or wouldn't show at my party, I wasn't worried about what I was going to wear (Tuesday night I emailed my friends and said "please don't hate me, but I'm not dressing up for the party, I'm too crazy."). I loved my uncut hairs. Do you hear me? I'm breezy.

The Epic Birthday Party was fab, especially since I kept drinking the raspberry mojito martini (ingredients: magic). I had seven drinks by the end of the night, which means I kept doing this:

(video)

There are probably pictures somewhere of me looking really hot and tan, very breezy, and maybe drunk. Stay tuned.

HOWEVER, do you know how hard it is to keep my no-planning promise? SO HARD. But tonight I didn't go to the bar, I watched the Olympics. And I had a chat last night about a cave trip, but I'm not taking action until September 1.

I am getting on an AIRPLANE tomorrow and I'm not even freaked about that.

Would you like to see my eyebrows? First picture is four weeks ago when you can start to see them come alive. Second picture is Sunday when I was dying from sunburn. Third picture is post-wax.

Last but not least (can you tell I haven't packed yet, hmmm?) lets talk about Ryan Lochte. I LOVE HIM.

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I'm going to go ahead and call it my Epic Birthday Party. On account of:

1. Third year at the same restaurant.

2. Best martinis EVER.

3. I invited WAY too many people.

4. BECAUSE I LOVE TO PARTY.

On account of the crippling anxiety I promised my friends on Sunday that I would "take it easy" until my birthday so I could CHILL THE FUCK OUT. Taking it easy means only watching Olympics and hanging out with Carolyn. It means staying in my comfort zone and no shenanigans involving stores, other people, my car, ANYTHING.

BUT, I had to install the TiVo because a) it arrived last week and it's just been sitting in our living room while it could be being awesome, and b) TiVo emailed me and told me they had a very! special! Olympics! plugin! TiVo totally let me down. It's installed now, after a trip to Radio Shack that made me cry, and I still have two things to return to two different stores, and GUESS WHAT?? The freaking plugin thingy doesn't work. I totally tried to research it on the TiVo forums and everything. Boooo.

Fail, Abigail, fail on the chilling out.

After THAT I knew that I needed to scale back some more so I canceled my birthday hair cut. Which sounds crazy, right? I mean, if you're feeling upset, doesn't being pampered seem like the appropriate solution? Sadly, it took me all the way until today to realize this would so not be the case. Evidence: me being undecided and flip-flop-y about what I want to do with my hair. Usually (always) I'm like, "do whatever you want, I'm tired of it!" The fact that I'm having thoughts (multiple thoughts!) other than this is bad news.

I HATE feeling this way. So, after all my birthday festivities are over, I am going into quarantine. No more parties, no more fun, no more stores. I might even have to make myself stop planning fun too. Because I am doing this to myself. Sigh.

Ending up note: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THE PARTAY.

Posted by Abigail at 10:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (2)
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Hi.

Can you guess how sunburned I am?

It's not Amanda's leprosy but it's bad enough that I can't stop complaining about it. Last night my mom was taking Carolyn and I out to dinner and she suggested we walk. I was all, "Bllllllllllllllllllargh, can't we DRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE?!" And my mom was all, "What is wrong with you?" And Carolyn, all resigned, was like, "she's been like this all day."

My desk chair at work which I LOVE (just searched my blog and I can't believe I've never written about this chair. It's called Sexy Back and it is made of mesh and chrome and is infinitely cooler than anything else I own, save my headlamp which is THANKGOD found) is causing me pain. I can't lean back into Sexy Back, I have sit up all proper like. Which is a total waste of the chrome and mesh head rest.

I think the word you're looking for is ANYWAY.

I have a good story about why I'm sunburned and it will probably be best with pictures which I don't have yet, SO INSTEAD, here is a photo from the last time I got really sunburned (thank you, geocaching) at Emily's wedding.

The anxiety is still with us. Hoping to stifle it before my haircut and birthday party on Wednesday.

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Well golly. I wrote a whole post about how my friends made me make a list of things I want for my birthday and how the whole thing makes me feel awkward, but then I felt awkward posting it. I love getting presents, but asking for them makes me feel awkward. And talking about asking for them makes me feel even more awkward. So I'm shutting up now.

I have a date with the DMV. (Meltdown mode doesn't happen for no reason.) I need to register my car and it's already late (30 days) and there is all this drama with a surcharge related to a parking ticket that I paid and so hopefully if I prove it was paid they will reduce the high, high amount I owe to register my car. Then I have to take the car to the mechanic and have him smog test it. Which... I don't think I'm going to pass. Boooo. (Then I give the mechanic a million dollars and he fixes it, so I can have the privilege of owning a car. Sigh. At least I've stopped using it. If that makes it better.)

But tonight I got to see Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 and it was heart-warming and perfect. Also, themed-party:

Orville totally totes popcorn in this case.

Laundry is still not done which is SO A PROBLEM, but it has become insolvable. And the headlamp? Is causing me panic. I NEED it this weekend and I'm running out of time to get a replacement. Let's do some brainstorming as to where it can be.

I had it the night of Emily's wedding. I really, really don't think I left it at my aunt's house because she would have found it by now and I've been there since then.

I think I put it back it the "electronics satchel" I travel with. And I think (like Winnie the Pooh, tapping my noggin) I took it out of that satchel when packing for BlogHer because there wasn't enough room for it. I remember thinking at the hostel that I was an idiot not to bring my headlamp to the one place where it's actually necessary.

But I could be creating all these memories like the incident at the library yesterday.

I haven't scoured my room yet because I'm nervous. Sigh. Any ideas? Anyone heard me talk about it or seen it?

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I wove the library a very lengthy, detailed yarn about how I returned a library book ("Two Saturdays ago! I remember I was on my phone when I did it!") and I swear I did, but here is the book. Sitting in my library bag by the door.

On Saturday I had a near anxiety attack when all my anxiety triggers combined into a Syndrome-like Attack. I was driving (trigger) my mom's car (trigger) with my mom (trigger), and it's a smaller car (trigger), so when this douchebag started TAILING ME all I could see was the grill of his big, ugly SUV in my rear view mirror. (Trigger.) I'm usually good with those types, I just slow down to a mile under the speed limit and taunt them. But since I was out of my comfort zone in the small car, I didn't even try to taunt him. I just tried to not get hit by him. When we arrive at a unprotected green where we were both turning left, I pulled into the intersection and then waited while an old lady started to cross the street. He starts HONKING while she is still IN THE STREET. That's when I started sobbing. When she was about one third across the street--not to the halfway median, but close enough that a car could maybe pass--he whipped around me to make the left turn.

I stuck my hand out the window to flip him off real good.

Of course, because of the panic attack, I couldn't quite achieve full posture, so it looked more like this:

Managing to feel embarrassed on top of everything else, I pulled through the turn, where I ended up right beside him. (Hey, douchebag, see how you go NOWHERE faster?) His window was down so I yelled, at the top of my lungs:

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!!!!!"

That's when my mom started to panic.

Mom: Pull over the car! You are blinded with rage!
Me: WHAT? HE SHOULD BE IN JAIL. (Still sobbing.)
Mom: Pull over the car. You never should do stuff like that.
Me: I HATE HIM.
Mom: What if he had pulled over and started yelling back at you?
Me: I WANTED HIM TO. THEN THE COPS WOULD HAVE COME AND HE WOULD HAVE PAID.
Mom: What if he had a gun?
Me: I DON'T CARE!!!!!!!!

Then I cried a lot about how he was tailing me and about how I don't want to be scared of driving, but I am, and how I don't want to be scared of her, but I am, and it was all very traumatic.

That's also the first time I've ever flipped anyone off while driving or yelled at another driver. I tend to react with aggressive driving, taunting, or giving the benefit of the doubt. This was new for me. It would have felt good if he had actually suffered. I still feel like I want to follow him and then crush his car with a bat. Poor old lady.

Syndrome was following me around all weekend, trying to ruin me and when I realized I didn't have a ride home from the train station on Sunday night, I could only think of two possible people who could pick me up. In reality, there are at least ten people I could ask, but I was so paralyzed that I could only come up with about four and then I felt too guilty to ask two of them.

The guilt was all-pervading. I felt guilty about asking for a ride on short notice. I felt guilty about the distance (even though I was going to pay for gas). Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt. So, when the only person available told me to use him as a last resort because he was maybe busy, I couldn't bring myself to use him at all. Guilt. So I paid for a $60 cab ride. Do you hear this? The crazy? I prefer it when my anxiety disorder lays dormant and doesn't ruin my life.

Things have been infinitely better since I got back on my own turf and I haven't cried or felt like it since then. But I'm going out of town this weekend (again! I am addicted to summer!) and I have a million things to do before I leave and I'm throwing a themed party tonight, and I'm going to an Angels game this afternoon. Because I can't say no to fun. (I really can't. I've tried.) I keep telling myself if I make my lists, then I'll be okay from then out because I will just need to follow the lists.

But I don't know where my headlamp is. And I really need to laundry.

Posted by Abigail at 12:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)
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So my new favorite thing in life is the Banana Chocolate Vivanno from Starbucks. What? You haven't tried it yet? It's been out since July 15! Get to a Starbucks right away!

I didn't think I'd like it because I think banana splits are gross and bananas only belong in a very select circle of ingredients, but apparently this "cupful of simple ingredients" (that's what it says on the cup) is magical because I LOVE IT.

The simple ingredients:
a whole banana
Protein & Fiber Powder
2% milk (I sub skim milk)
mocha sauce
ice
espresso (optional) (but you're crazy if you don't)

It's 270 calories (or less with the skim). Since I stopped eating food from Starbucks a few months ago, I've been spending less money there which means I can totally afford to have this every day! (Well, almost every day, and by afford, I mean I should be saving this money for something important, but look! I'm saving the economy one Vivanno at a time!)

If you don't like banana mixed with other things, you won't like this, but if you like smoothies with bananas and you like frappuccinos, please try this drink. It is my perfect breakfast. It's sister drink, the Orange Mango Banana Vivanno, isn't bad either.)

Disclaimer: You could totally make this at home. But if you factor in the time and energy it takes to clean a freaking blender AND peel a banana, you are totally saving money by getting this at the 'bucks.

Posted by Abigail at 5:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)
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The “Blog” of “Unnecessary” Quotation Marks
quotation-marks.blogspot.com
User-submitted pics of bad quotation mark usage.

"Eric in WA sent me this one. It's like someone wrote this especially for the "blog". I can't think of any other explanation. And what's the deal with the (SAFETY)?"

Cake Wrecks
When professional cakes go horribly, hilariously wrong.
cakewrecks.blogspot.com

"From what I can see, this appears to be a pimp-mobile on a suicide run through a radioactive river of blood - only it's a radioactive river of blood with jaunty blue outlining."

(I found out about these from my MOM!)

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It's Ashley IN MY LIVING ROOM. I lured her into my home yesterday as part of my master murder plan. (Don't tell her.)

She wrote on her blog last week that she was looking for interesting things to do in LA and I was like, "um, I LIVE IN LA." (Not that I'm an interesting thing to do, I mean I am, but that's not what I meant, but I'm an interesting thing to see.) She was all, "well we're just driving through" and I was like "what? That's dumb?" And then, through a series of coercive text messages, I convinced her to spend the night at my home. I am so the creepiest person ever.

My biggest concern was that her friend Emily (who is also in my living room) would prevent us from meeting because I am from the scary internet. Turns out Emily is less scared of the internet that anyone I know. She was involved in anime forums fifteen years ago. I think she once attended an anime wedding. (Emily, I'm not making fun of you, promise.)

They're about to leave so I'm giving them tips on which Starbucks to stop at (the ones with Sorbetto), and how to get to Arizona (you go that way, until you get there). Ashley is totally waiting for me to kill her, so I'll wrap this up. If you don't hear from her in a while, you'll know why.

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So, bwahahahaha, my rear passenger tire blew out today. As in flap-flap-flap-flap!

(That's the sound of tire shreds hitting my wheel well.)

(The photo is documentation of the second time this happened. See the missing rubber?)

I'm so glad this didn't happen on the top of San Diego.

Since I'm used to this drill, I called the number in my wallet and they sent a driver out right away. My car is at the tire place right now and will be all better tomorrow. This tire was the last original tire, so it's kind of like she's all grown up now because she lost all her baby teeth. Except it's more like she's lost all her big kid teeth too, because she's not going to make it much longer.

Two out-of-the-ordinary things:

The dispatcher was a little bit sexist. She was very kind and sympathetic, and since I don't take undeserved sympathy, I shooed it away and said, "Oh, no, this is my own fault!" And she said, "No, your car is a boy and it is doing this TO YOU. That's what I always tell my husband." Interesting, lady. I definitely did get served faster though because I was female and alone. She said, "I have three sisters, and I know they would kill me if I didn't bump you to the top of the list." I feel like I am one of the least helpless people I know so it always weirds me out to be treated this way. Especially since I was in the 'burbs! Also, I think I might unintentionally use a helpless girl voice when I make the call.Hmm.

My tow truck driver was super nice (although he relied a bit too much on his clearly malfunctioning GPS). My initial plan was to have him drop my car off at the tire place and I would walk to my friend's house and borrow a car. In fact, I strategically ended my flap-flap getaway near my friend's house. However, the driver informed me that he couldn't leave my car anywhere without me being there. I asked him if I could get a ride back to his garage (several blocks from my house) and I could just walk from there. He graciously gave me a ride all the way home (after we ditched the limping vehicle) and then coached me on how to lie to his dispatch (they're not allowed to do anything but tow the vehicle). I'm a little scared of getting him in trouble. So, uh, don't tell.

The upside is that this finally pushed me to do some research I've been meaning to do forever. Good news: there are several bus routes near my house, gym, and work and they're really easy and cheap! After I've tested in all out and found a rhythm, I'll be sure to brag about it. Rhythm is really hard to spell.

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Saturday, I took a day trip to San Diego to meet up with Vahid and my college roommate Jeni and her husband B (who she calls B-Town... so maybe I will too). The great things about my friends (at least, I think this is great, in my head, I could be all wrong) is that I can throw a stranger at them and we can all have a good time. Vahid was in town on vacation and said that he grew up in SD and would be touring his homeland later in his visit and so he was up for anything. Which was great news because I was up for snoogling Jeni and B-Town's new puppy.

Is that not THE CUTEST THING YOU HAVE EVER SEEN?

After snoogling the puppy, nearly endlessly, I gave my car keys to B-Town because he is the boss of cars. He lectured me about the air in my tires and then remembered that he had done that last time he saw me and I admitted that, yes, I had done nothing about it since then. "B-Town," I said, "I am a failure of a human being. You know that." So we got in the slowly devolving vehicle in search of an adventure or really good Mexican food.

We made it halfway down the driveway before B was all, "You have four wheel drive on this?!" Ten minutes later we were off-roading.

I nearly had an anxiety attack. It had nothing to do with B-Town, but more to do with the Green Monster. She's very old (it's almost time for her to go to a home) and the check engine light has been on for weeks and I was so worried that she was just going to give out on us right there and we'd either a) have to embarrassingly ask a tow truck to off road, or, b) plummet into a house at the base of the mountain at increasingly faster speeds. Neither of these things happened (obviously), and I would so do it again. Also, we got a sweet ass view of SD from the summit and my car looks super bad ass.

Following our adventure, we got Really Good Mexican Food. Instead of bringing just chips and salsa, we were brought chips, salsa, and WHITE CHEESE SAUCE. Now that is something they don't have in Portland, Vahid. He got a fish taco. I don't eat fish tacos because they taste like fish instead of guacamole, but I sincerely hope he enjoyed it. I like to show a good time, you know.

Speaking of good times, Vahid and I approach navigating the same way: rely on malfunctioning sense of direction until you eventually find your way. After picking him up at his hotel I gave him the "scenic" "tour" on Downtown SD in case he forgot it. Once I finally gave up on finding our destination he whipped out his "I used to live here!" cap and gave me the tour as well. We saw allll the neighborhoods. Eventually, Vahid was all, "My phone has Google Maps." We found our way. I know you were worried.

Vahid liked my friends which was gratifying and he even mentioned they were "blog-friendly." I swelled with pride. It's true, Jeni reads most of the internet, and B-Town even has a bloglines account (don't worry, we convinced him to switch to Google Reader). We all parted ways in the evening, Vahid to Dave Diego, Jeni and B-Town to his 10 year high school reunion (which, weirdly, was across the street from Dave Diego), and me to a work thing where I showed off my fabulous sauce-making abilities.

How about one more picture of the puppy?

Posted by Abigail at 9:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (1)
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When people find out I blog and they know what blogging is, then they'll ask me what I blog about.

Life.

Usually that's enough.

When other bloggers ask me what I blog about, it's not really enough. Last weekend, I was unprepared to answer that question and found myself whispering, "I blog about how I'm lazy." That is almost wholly accurate. In fact, my tagline reads, "I'm okay with being unimpressive."

Wednesday morning, when my gas tank was on empty, I decided to put off refilling until Wednesday evening. Wednesday evening, I figured I could just do on the way to work Thursday morning, thus postponing until the last possible tenth of a tank. Obviously, when I reached in my bag for my wallet Thursday morning, it wasn't there. I had left it at my office and had to buy $1.65 worth of gas IN CHANGE to get my car to my office.

I need to hire someone to take care of these things for me.

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I wanted to go to BlogHer because I wanted to learn things, I wanted to meet people, and I wanted to get motivated to write more and better. Mission: successful.

More BlogHer entries here.

Continue reading "BlogHer '08 Recap!" »

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I don't know what recovery feels like, even though I use the term often. I never leave a buffer time between my trips and my life because I'd rather be living or experiencing or moving or some other cliche. When I crash into my bed after little sleep, planes, trains, and automobiles, I refuse to unpack my suitcase. This return I refuse to even bring it into my bedroom, so daunting are its burgeoning contents.

I was worried it wouldn't make it through bag drop, that it would weigh too much and I'd be there, huddled next to a station rapidly shoving dirty clothes into a canvas bag for my second carry-on. As embarrassing as that would be, I was really just anti-carrying another thing through the airport. It was under the weight restriction though, with 2.5 lbs to spare.

Even more riveting than the weight of my suitcase, is the minor fact that I have stopped biting my nails (again) (mostly). I need to go get a manicure this week before I bite them all of again. Or worse, just be all weird and orally-fixated and fake bite them until they break on their own. I'm so gross.

I have a lot of wonderful things to say about BlogHer, me and everyone else, and I want to, I do, I just find myself at a typing loss today. I'm deleting a game from my iPod post-haste that may be a contributing factor in this crippling inability to complete sentences and/or thoughts.

No, I'm not deleting it.

I tried, but then it told me I would lose all my high scores too and I didn't throw my life away for nothing! I need that proof! Proof that I need professional help.

At The Collective this week we're holding a caption contest. Readers get to cap photos from when we were wee. Or you can just laugh at us. There aren't any prizes for that, but it's still kind of fun. Kind of? No, laughing at other people is really fun. Especially when they're sporting a denim jacket with purple accents.

Posted by Abigail at 12:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)
Find in BlogHer | Daily | I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

I mean, it's not really like I've tried: trying involves closing the computer. If that doesn't work, then I put on The Weepies. Inability to sleep is not something I actually possess which leads me to believe I don't want to sleep.

Bizarre.

{...}

(That was me trolling THE ENTIRETY OF FLICKR. I've seen every single photo.)

I'm going to lift my self-imposed no-more-video-games-today ban, close my computer, turn on The Weepies, and game myself into sleep. Otherwise, the internet will rob my life.

Posted by Abigail at 2:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)
Find in BlogHer | Daily | I'll Sleep When I'm Dead | Travel

Blurb: You might be childfree by choice because you always knew you didn't want children, or it might have snuck up on you, and you decided or work to be content as you were. Either way there are definitely times when it's like being a fish out of water in this society...online and off. Lisa Stone likes to say that "the only thing harder than being a mother in this culture is being a woman who chose not to be a mother." Join Laurie White, Teri Tith, Suebob Davis and Laura Scott, who have a lot to say on the subject!

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Continue reading "Who We Are: Women Without Children and the Blogosphere" »

Posted by Abigail at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)
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First of all, do you see that badge? It's is a totally, fully, different color than everyone else. It is STAFF GREEN. I got it because I'm liveblogging, but I don't actually know anything else. So, when people say "oooo, staff" (which they always say) I've started making up stuff. "You know that Verizon guy who tests the phones? I test the internet." "I'm enforcing the 'greenest conference ever' thing so, um, I hope you're planning on recycling that bottle."

Second of all, last night at a party a lady came up to me and was like, "I KNOW YOU!!!!" I was all, "ummm, really?" because while this is normal for some bloggers here, if people know me I know them, too. This lady eyed my name tag (see above) and was like, "what's your name?" And I was like, "What's YOUR name, no-tag lady?" And she told me her name and then she hugged me. HUGGED me. I felt awkward of course and then she said, "I'm so drunk, I swear I know you." Then she hugged me three more times and wandered off. I definitely don't know her.

But that brings me to the third thing, which is that people keep recognizing me. But not in the blog way, not like, "oh my god! Melissa Summers knows my name!" but it the "I think I know you from somewhere" way. When they learn my name they look even more puzzled because it doesn't ring a bell, and they start asking where I'm from, went to school, etc., to place how they know me. So, world wide web, is there another blogger who looks like me? Do I have a bloggerganger?

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Posted by Abigail at 10:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)
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Blurb: Journalist, blogger, editor and consultant Amy Gahran will be conducting this workshop going over these basic of online writing excellence. Amy writes at her own blog, Contentious and edits the Poynter Institute's group blog, E-Media Tidbits.

HANDOUTS and other related materials

Everything in italics was said by an attendee.

I'm Amy Gahran and I'm a recovering journalist, among other things. I've had a bizarre career, journalist, editor, and helping organizations wrap their brains around the internet. I also do a lot of training...

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Continue reading "What We Do: Writing Workshop" »

Posted by Abigail at 3:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)
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