the smell of my desperation has become a stench

They don’t call ’em noodly appendages for nuthing

Jon shot this short video of me dancing at a party in Austin last Saturday night, and I should probably warn you that if you lean in too closely one of my arms just might swing out and catch the side of your head:

He’s also posted a boatload of pictures from the same party, and you should definitely have a look if only to see an assortment of Internet visionaries on their fifth vodka tonic, but the two I have to post here show me about to start a riot because the line for the ladies’ pink port-a-potty was filled entirely with men, and I wasn’t about to let the identities of those men go un-blogged. NOT A CHANCE.

I’m thinking that all that bourbon might have had a tiny effect on the magnitude of my righteous indignation.

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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