Are you going to BlogHer? I think we should have a drink together. That's if you want to have a drink with me, of course. Me, I'd love to have a drink with you: I think we could have some pretty good conversations about Tim Riggins if left in a room together with a bottle of wine, although if you switched the topic to nuclear engineering or sixteenth century Renaissance poetry halfway through, I guess I'd probably try and keep up. Don't expect too much, though; I'm much better talking about fictional television characters.

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I went down to see my parents in San Diego last weekend, where I did what I always do when I'm down there: shop with my mother, watch HGTV with my father, and eat as much food as is humanly possible. For some people, a week in Maui is what it takes to push the re-set button. For me, it's a weekend at home.

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“All the bells and whistles” as “all the Belgian whistles.” Someone said this on a phone call I was on once. I had to put myself on mute to snort.

“Providence” as “Pro-VYE-dence.” That was my friend Victoria when she was visiting me in Connecticut from England a million years ago and we saw a sign on the freeway. I still can’t read about Pro-VYE-dence, Rhode Island without pronouncing it like that in my head. It sounds kind of nice I think.

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I have decided that I cannot possibly go to the cinema anymore. When you go to the cinema, you see, you are entirely too dependent on the people around you to be reasonable and sane. Most people in the cinema are reasonable and sane, of course, but every now and then you get one bird-brained knucklehead who breaks the social contract---the social contract of, you know public sanity and reasonableness---and ends up ruining it for the rest of us.

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Well, mother of pearl and sweet cracker sandwich: who'd have thought that there'd be over a thousand entries for last week's Clarisonic giveaway: 1,113 to be precise, which is a number so stupendously large to me that I can hardly believe it. If only there were a way to give away 1,113 Clarisonics, you know? But I guess that would make me Oprah. 

(Look under your seats, everyone! Do it right now! Just in case!)

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I have some pretty crazy news. A couple of weeks ago, when I wrote about my Clarisonic brush as a Best Thing Ever---and just to reiterate, no-one told me to do this, and you'd better believe I paid for that sucker myself---I was overwhelmed with the number of people who said they wanted one too. I mean, obviously you'd want one: they're awesome.

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A year ago today, Sean asked me to marry him, which I guess makes today an anniversary of sorts, although, I don't know, do people actually celebrate their engagement anniversaries, or is that sort of thing just reserved for wedding anniversaries?

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It seems so long ago that I used to have to multi-task while watching TV in the evenings: sticking doilies here, trimming paper there, stuffing envelopes until I wanted to tell the envelopes to go stuff themselves, if you know what I mean.

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The day was magical, no doubt in part because of all the wonderful vibes and love sent along by the Internet. This is one of the very few pictures we have so far---taken by Sean's best man, Tony, who was, as I understand it, quite a hit at the wedding---but I thought I'd post it quickly from the Melbourne Library (what, isn't the library the first place you'd go on your honeymoon?) just in case you were wondering how it all went. As you can tell, it went pretty splendidly.

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I didn't go to the BlogHer conference this year, but it sure was interesting to follow along from afar. As far as I can tell, for instance, from piecing together various tweets and blog posts, a baby got elbowed in the head. Is that right? Did that happen? Did a baby really get elbowed in the head? What the hell did that poor baby do, steal someone's last drink ticket? Get your own vodka-cranberry, baby! This is mine! Pow! That'll teach you! You probably write compensated reviews too, don't you? I thought as much! How'd you like to review this knuckle sandwich?

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