That's right bitches... I got totally left behind as you all know. Relegated to tending the Twitarded blogosphere to make sure there were no security breaches, no unexpected break-ins and RPattz didn't disappear on us. But that's ok, no hard feelings. Really. Although if I lived within a reasonable drive from Jenny Jerkface and Snarkier Than You, I think I may have toilet papered their front bushes and egged their houses.
I did find ways to cope with my downward spiral of depression (and no, it didn't come in the pill form... not that there's anything wrong with those of you who find solace in pharmaceuticals.) After my therapeutic, semi-hysterical crying jag Friday night, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and tried to make something of my weekend.
Sure I wasn't in NYC partying hard with bloggy bitches from 'round the world, filming riotous dance-off videos, and filling my hotel pillowcases with swag. But I did have one thing that kept me from jamming the barrel of my brand-new 20-gauge shotgun in my mouth. I had one tall, lanky Brit... codename: RPattz.
Now call me crazy, but when I'm feeling glum, scouring the interwebs for panty-wetting photos of the preh-tay is what turns my frown upside down. He's my shoulder to cry on, my Zoloft, my Paxil, my Prozac... He brightens my day like a world with no ozone layer.
Screw all those lucky whores who got to browse the Expo halls scoring swag, learn how to write kick-assier blogs, attend alcohol-laden festivities and hang with The [mother fucking] Bloggess! Screw 'em I say! I got to hang with the precious. And by hang, I mean drool on my computer keyboard for hours on end staring at photos and watching videos... not like I got to cup his balls or anything. (Which just for the record is something that's definitely at the top of my bucket list.)
Once again, I have the uber-talented Biel to thank for pulling me out of my funk. I uncontrollably squealed when I saw she'd posted a new video on YouTube and totally forgot I'd been kicked to the curb by my bloggy besties. You may have already seen it - but fuck, it's good. Watch it again. And again.
Jesus mother fucking hamster fucker, that boy is dangerous! But I digress... I know I wasn't left behind intentionally... I know next year, I'll see you twat stains in San Diego even if I have to sell blowjobs to get there... and I know that JJ and STY learned loads of good stuff at BlogHer and I wait with breathless anticipation for them to share this knowledge with me.
No hard feelings. Really. Bitch-faces.
Day of Delirium #350 - Two Heart Cells Beating
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