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Posts Tagged ‘boston bloggahs’

Not for me, possums. I’m a few loads of laundry and a rereading of The Great Gatsby away from being pretty okay with things. But my bloggy friend Mel of a little lady’s thug life is at a crossroads with her father and — despite seeming like a dude who would punch you in the dang face if you ever offered her unsolicited advice — really needs some feedback. I know how fraught parental relationships can be, and thought if you had a minute to spare to weigh in on her situation or just offer a little love, it would be a really wonderful thing to do.

Check out her post here.

To give you time to read her post, the shortest NTKOG ever:

NTKOG #115: The kind of Ingalls-lite who bakes crackers. Crackers. Honestly. Isn’t that like the simplest atomic guise of bread? I just assumed they were formed in nature.

The Scene:

The Verdict:

[Edit: for those of you who want to try it, this is Mark Bittman’s recipe for parmesan-cream crackers — which I, naturally, slathered with garlic. Thanks to Leigh at Full Gastronomic Tilt for passing on the recipe a few weeks ago! And apologies that I was too deliriously tired to give credit where credit was due in the first place!]

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NTKOG # 87: The kind of internet-obsessed blogger who feels the needs to meet complete strangers to discuss shenans like google pagerank and hit counts (and drink a lot of gin).

I am: prone to social-anxiety-induced panic attacks — big time — when meeting strangers.

I am not: sure, anyway, that I want to let who I am on my blog define me in my real actual life. (Oh who am I kidding. I totally do.)

The Scene: Dante, a swanky and really quite tasteful cocktail bar in a Cambridge Hotel. Emrlds put together an impromptu blogger tweet-up and – undaunted by the world-ending vortex potential of hanging out with other people who sometimes tweet about RSS readers – I messaged her psychedly about it all week. Never mind the fact that at her last tweet-up, in December, I skulked in the foyer of Cactus Club for a full twenty-five minutes before giving up the game and hyperventilating the whole way home. (I think there are medications for this?)

When I approached the bar, Emrlds was sitting alongside Julie, Petey Pumpkin, and Kristen — later to be joined by Susan. Bar seating; limited mingling; god someone get this girl around a few ounces of gin. I leaned into the bartender (who, point of interest, rather resembled Muscles) and requested something, anything, with a manly splash of Hendrick’s. Dude obliged me with a really quite excellent Aviation and once I got halfway through it, I felt almost up to meeting my peers.

And let me tell you guys: if you’re a blogger, there’s nothing more liberating than spending an evening in the company of your peers. Dudes who get things like taking pics of food and libations, being outrageous for fodder, and all the backstabby drama on 20SB – I mean, jesus, sign me up all night long. Emrlds and Peter had a multi-tweet exchange about Emrlds’ (excellent) drink while they were sitting three feet away from each other.

After a while, two other bloggers Steven and Alison walked in. “Who are they?” I hissed to Emrlds, “What are their blogs?” She lowered her voice and replied: “They’re tumblr people.”

Ah my friggin’ homeland. I love it. (And before you accuse me of webhost-ism, the marginalized tumblr people were completely cool. Don’t hate.)

Still, the whole site felt a little like a round of speed-dating (who are you? who are you on your blog? How long you been at it? What platform?) until – until. The night broke up very pleasantly, and when the girls begged off, Peter and I headed to the Cambridgeside Galleria to grab cigarettes slash restroom. On the way, we realized we were hungry and decided to grab a bite at Cheesecake Factory.

Hold the phone, guys. A hot gay guy and yours truly, fag-hagging it up at the most bourg eatery this side of TGI Friday’s?! Holy jazzhands, kids, I’m finally back in my element. Or back in high-school. Either/or.

Peter — who is one of the all-time great dudes — and I ended up having a beautiful ladies’ night, discussing vital and hilarious topics including but not limited to: our server’s hoohahs, why boys are dumb, and the stark haunting ladyhood of Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl. Siiiiigh. I’m in heaven.

The Verdict: Despite the fact that I had about nineteen and a half panic attacks on the way to the tweet-up (oh god, they won’t think I’m funny. I’m not as cute as I write – someone’ll say something! What if no one there reads my blog?!), this ended up being a divine night with some really quite outstanding dudes.

So much so, in fact, that I issue to you gorgeous Boston Bloggahs (and blogficionados) a solemn vow: let’s get the frig together the week after next to sing karaoke. Yes? No? You guys in?! If so, I’ll be the xanax-popping neurotic brunette belting “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”.

[Also, I never do this, but if you have a few minutes to remind yourself to be a better person, I thoroughly recommend you check out The Meanest Mom’s funny and beautiful entry today.]

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