I'm kind of freaking out. Ok, I'm really freaking out. REALLY FREAKING OUT.
You know this:
Wait, scratch that. Since it starts with the Girls Night Out on thursday, it's in less than two days. (Except that I don't get to go to Girls Night since I'll still probably be traveling, BUT STILL it's soon. SOOOOOOOOOOOOON.)
My original CBC plan was: "Wear camoflauge-ish clothing, hang head so bangs stay in eyes, don't make eye contact even if bangs are weirdly cooperating, sit in back of classes, maybe no one will notice you're there."
THEN, my mom and I (mostly my mom) decided to snag the very last vendor's table for Green Jello with Carrots. (By the way, we're having our one year birthday celebration, and you can read about it on our blog, 'cause you get deals, AND if you're reading this small print then I know you're my real friend so I'll also give you 40% off your whole order of downloadable stuff if you enter this code: IKNOWYOU when you check out. See reading small print and being my friend pays off - something I never thought possible!)
Standing behind a vendor's table, trying to get people's attention called for a new plan. It was: "Try to make mom do all the talking, slink off to classes when possible, sit in back of room with bangs over eyes, maybe wear real shoes instead of flip flops."
Today Mombabe asked if I would read one of my favorite posts at the keynote on saturday night.
At least I think she did.
Because sometimes I wonder if I've made up my entire life like in that movie "A Beautiful Mind." And then I have to wander around the house poking everyone to make sure they're real. My theory is, if they answer "yes" when I say, "does this hurt?" then it has to be real. Except that I'm sure if I've made up my life, I would make the imaginary children scream as much as possible, just so I think it's real.
So someone tell me now if my life is all in my head. It's kind of crucial, because I'm seriously freaking out. And if Mombabe didn't really email and ask me to read, then I should probably stop breathing into a paper bag and check myself in somewhere.
For now, we're just going to pretend that I'm sane. (Which is what crazy people do until they realize that they've been crazy for decades.) And you've gotta help me decide on my favorite post. If I read the post that had the most comments, I would be telling everyone, into a microphone, about how I don't want to poop at Walmart. And that's really not going to happen.
The only other posts where I have lots of comments (because you are all so supportive) are about my horrible parenting and dislike of motherhood. I'm not reading one of those either. It's supposed to be something funny.
So, your assignment right now is to read through my archive. Yes, all of it. And tell me which post you think I should read. And keep in mind I only have a few days to decide. So hop to it.
Meanwhile, I'm going to keep freaking out.