Sure, I’m home from Boston long enough to pick up dry cleaning, do some banking, and pack a bag for California. Today was Neil’s day to post and I forgive, Neil. Truly, I do. Please don’t worry about it. (Readers should rest assured that, to make up for his faux pas, Neil will post nudie pics of himself and do a giveaway for a free chocolate-colored pony! So stay tuned! Second prize winners get a yacht and a massage.)

All of my guest post contributors were excellent and I learned a thing or two about each of them. Mostly that I really do adore them and wish so much that they’d all come over for a sleepover (boys in a tent outside, so says my momma) and we’d tell story after story over some lovely sangria and a cheese plate.

Poor Libby thought she broke my blog, but she didn’t. Her Tour was awesome and I must admit to linking to the nude blogging one first. I’m a sucker for a good post title.

Ted Foo posted a picture of a cuppa that I actually own! The whole set! Weirdness galore. Psst! Teddy? Do you have the matching plates and bowls?

Karen has, in one fell swoop, irked every 41 year old who doesn’t LOOK LIKE THAT BECAUSE OHMYGOD SWEET BABY JEEBUS SHE’S INCREDIBLE. Also? We don’t want her to lose any weight, do we folks? No. No, we don’t.

Angella published what is my favorite picture of herself and I hope that this week when we meet she will recreate that pose for me.

Heather used one of my go-to phrases when I stub my toe or fall off my bicycle: “fuckity fuck” and I have a special hat to show her when we get to San Francisco.

Fluid Pudding has a real name but I don’t suppose I’ll ever really use it. After reading her today I’m hoping she’ll yell out, “Hey, Shithead!” to me so that we bond even further (though we ARE going to nosh on burritos and watch movies soon) and I was so glad she did some drawings. Yay for drawings!

Here’s a quick stream-of-consciousness to detail this last week (I know how some of you like these but I should apologize for not being on any good medicine prior to writing):

Eating lots of seafood and taking the water taxis in Boston was not a real smart combination and I had to talk my stomach into please settling down every day.

Mike’s Pastry is awesome. Have the cannoli. Leave the gun.

People watching is free and underrated. Sitting on the pier and scanning crowds is something I can do, apparently, for 4 hours before realizing it’s probably time to go in to bed.

Fire alarms in hotels aren’t fun. Unless you’re still outside on the patio people-watching and then you get to see folks from your conference come down in pajamas.

Always bring matching pajamas to conferences in case of fire alarm.

The sign on the city aquarium read, “SHAAAKS” and I absolutely fell in love with the city for that.

Walking around with my group (10 or so of us) in the Italian North End I was approached by a retarded man who slapped a balled up piece of paper in my hand and yelled in my face, “THAT’S MY NUMBA. CAWL ME.” Then he walked away and stopped by outdoor cafe tables stealing napkins. Seriously, I loved Boston!

Mallory is coming to San Francisco to the BlogHer conference with me. She’s doing so not fully knowing how crazy all these women are, but she promised to go to all the cocktail parties and not mock me. How do I prepare her for this madness?

Anyone who has invited me to a party out there at BH? Ummm, I haven’t really been writing them down so I can’t recall where I should be and when. Who would like to be my personal assistant for the week? Oh, that’s right, MALLORY, WHO PROMISED NOT TO MOCK.

We are flying in on Thursday and don’t have a hotel room until Friday. Should I be worried? Anyone want to take in 2 very sweet Midwestern gals who are a ton of fun?

One final note to any retarded men in San Francisco who approach me: please don’t yell when you give me your phone number. But know that I will probably drunk dial you when a bunch of my friends and I are together.