When I think back on the weekend, it's the little moments that stand out and make me laugh out loud randomly throughout the day.

Like, the time I was on a boat with Isabel and was all "Look how beautiful the fog is. I love how it looks in the pictures!" and then I realized that it was not fog at all, but steam from the boat. "It's ok, we can pretend it's fog." Isabel said, ever so sweetly, realizing that I felt like a big fat jackass.

Or the time that I farted while SJ was talking to me in the room and I had to announce it because I wasn't sure if she heard it or not and well, it's always better to be all "Yeah, I farted. JEALOUS?" Then to pretend like you didn't fart at all.

Or the time that I kept talking to Lindsay during the keynote and she finally had had enough and was all "SHHHHHHHHHHHH!" And I kind of wanted to cry because well, SHE SHUSHED ME! But then I couldn't stop laughing because "ha ha ha ha she shushed me."

Or, the time I was hanging out in the men's bathroom with a bunch of really hilarious women and one martini glass was sitting on the urinal and for some reason that I can't remember, me and Jenny started singing "A Whole New World" and Mrs Flinger took out her video camera to record it without my knowledge and posted it on flickr.

And while I should pretend to be really pissed off that she did that, I can't because it makes me weep with laughter seeing proof that I really was belting Disney tunes in the men's restroom while completely sober.

And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons that I do and always will love BlogHer.

More to come tomorrow...

Overwhelmed.

That is how I feel.

Overwhelmed with both good, bad. Happy. sad. Anger. Love.

But mostly good, happy and love.

This weekend will take days if not weeks for me to process. The love that I felt from both friends and strangers alike. The unwarranted ugliness in a crowded room. The sadness I saw watching a friend struggle to keep it together. The beauty I saw in a group of women whose positive energy (OMG. BIG FAT OPRAH HEAD) carried me through one of the most terrifying, yet amazing moments of my entire life. The cheeseburgers. Oh my GOD, the cheeseburgers.

I'll write it all very soon, I just need to sort it all out first.

And by "sort it all out" I really mean "take a 4 day nap because Holy Mother of Hotel Security, I am tired."

(P.S. I met some amazing women who have wonderfully written blogs and I look forward to sharing them with you in the next few days. Today, I really think you should go and read Lesbian Dad. I promise you that it will be worth your time.)

I am currently sitting in LAX waiting standby for a 5:30 flight into San Francisco.

Scratch that. I'm now waiting for a 7:30 flight because this flight is full

Of fucking course it is!

I've been here since 12:00 this afternoon.

Flight was canceled. Couldn't get on a flight til the morning. Then got confirmed for a 9pm flight. Then was told I could go on United, which was like 4 terminals away.

I had to walk.

Feet are swollen and tore the fuck up.

Had to go through security again.

Got selected for the "random search" OF COURSE I DID!!

I'm sweaty. Tired. Angry. And ready to punch the next asshole who steps on my mother effing toe.

Seriously? Why must everything go wrong for me? And if you tell me it's because I need to put "Positive Energy" out to the universe, I'll punch you in your big, fat Oprah head.

I don't even know what a big fat Oprah head is, but I swear to GOD, I will punch you in it.

I want to tell you a story about my first year at BlogHer.

I wasn't particularly nervous about fitting in or any of that crap. I'm a "Make My Own Fun" kind of person and don't really give a shit if people "invite me to sit at their table" or not. I knew that I'd have fun because I had a fabulous roommate and was looking forward to meeting the people I had come to know online through my blog.

When I arrived, things were just as I had imagined. Better, actually. And then "it" happened.

I had just finished doing the Alpha Mom interview and as I was walking out with my friend, someone asked what we were doing next.

"We're going to the party in Super Star Bloggers room!"

The Exclusive Party That I Wasn't Invited To.

"Um, I wasn't invited to that party." I said to my friend.

"Ohhhh." she said. things got a little awkward. "Well, I am going."

In that moment, I could have felt highly offended. I was snubbed! The PopEweLers! don't like me! I'm a loser! Wah!

But, guess what? I didn't care. In fact, I couldn't have cared less. I didn't have the energy to sit and pout because a bunch of people who I didn't know and weren't interested in getting to know me didn't invite me to their party. There were people to talk to and booze to drink and Drive By Farters to laugh at.

At last years conference, while Elizabeth Edwards was speaking, my roommate Lena began passing "let's have a party in our room!" notes back and forth.

"Who should we invite?"

"Whoever wants to come."

"What about her, her and her?"

"Yes! And her and her, her her her and her!"

"Oh! and her!"

"How about we just tell people we talk to at the Cock! Tail! Party to come up to our room when it's over!"

"We can go to 7-11 and buy booze! And fritos! And bean dip!"

"YES!"

At the party, I told everyone I talked to about our party.

"Come to our party in 2603"

"We're having booze and bean dip in room 2603! Come join us!"

"Room 2603! Be there!"

When we got on the bus to go back to the hotel, I started to get a little worried.

"I'm scared that everyone will show up. What will we do if that happens?" I asked Lena.

"Um, how many people did you invite, Y?"

"Only... everyone that I talked to.."

We laughed and laughed. Then we got scared. What if everyone showed up? Or, even worse, what if absolutely NO one showed up?

Once we got to the room, we met up with Lindsay, SJ, and Kathy and decided to take a trip to buy "food and drink" for our party.

That trip to 7-11 is one of my favorite memories of the entire trip. Nothing funnier than a bunch of bloggers deciding which booze to buy for their hotel room party at 10pm on a Saturday night.

We were totally stoked with our bottles of booze and cans of bean as we walked the streets of Chicago. Now, I'm not trying to brag here, but as we were walking to our hotel room, I spotted a McDonalds and came up with one of my Top 10 Greatest Ideas in the History of My Life.

"Hey! Let's grab some Cheeseburgers and fries to pass out at our party!"

And everyone was all "OMFG YES!"

15 minutes later, we were in our room with a dresser full of liquor and a bed full of McDonald bags.

Within a few minutes, people started filing into the room.

"Wanna Cheeseburger!" I'd say all happy like with my Bag Hat.

But, after about the 10th person, I started getting a little nervous because I'm totally scared of The Law. I had heard rumors about Security breaking up a room of FOUR people and so I was like "let's try to keep it down, people."

I lost count of how many people were filing into the room, but I can tell you that it was a lot. There wasn't anywhere to stand, so people began sitting on our beds and on our pillows (WHILE EATING BEAN DIP.) and man, did it get loud.

Within minutes, we were out of cheeseburgers.

And it was sad.

God, it was so much fun being crammed into that room, talking to all of those people. Most of them I didn't even know! And they didn't know me! And yet, we sat on a bed and talked while drinking Smirnoff Ice.

Then, all of a sudden, someone came running in saying something about "Security's coming!"

And Lindsay grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom where we hid because, I told you... SCARED OF THE LAW.

I would have stayed in there too, but they started asking questions.

"Who's room is this?"

Shit.

So, I took off my Bag Hat, walked out of the bathroom scared shitless of the GIANT MEN who wanted to "have a word with me."

"Hi, can I help you?"

"Is this your room?"

"Yes sir."

And then, I said the dumbest thing that I bet that man has ever heard when breaking up a party.

"Sir, we're just writers. We're just writers talking. And eating cheeseburgers. We're just writers,sir"

You can see that Big Dude is trying really hard not to laugh, which was good because he wasn't smiling when I first started talking. He couldn't hold it back any longer because... we're just writers, sir.

The party couldn't have lasted longer than an hour, but the memories that were made in that room that night still make me laugh so hard that it hurts a year later. I loved the experience of chatting with people who I might not have otherwise had the chance to talk to while wearing a bag on my head and that it seemed completely normal and not at all lame to everyone there. It was just one of the most absurdly hilarious nights of my life.

And guess what?

We're doing it again this year. Only this year, it's going to Kick So Much Ass because Isabel from Alpha Mom has graciously offered to host our party. And let me tell you, She knows how to throw a party.

If you're going to be at BlogHer, Myself, Lindsay and SJ would love for you to join us on Saturday night. It will start around 9:30 pm. We don't have a room number yet, so you'll have to find one of us or you can email me and I'll give you my number so we can get in touch.

MY GOD, my fingers hurt. No time to edit. Must go to sleep. Airport in 11 hours. WOO.

This morning as I sat in an abandoned parking lot at 6am watching a CHP officer push PigHunter's car off of the side of the road, I burst into hysterical laughter.

It's either laugh or cry at this point and today? I am choosing laughter.

It's been one unexpected expense after unexpected expense here for the past week. My gut instinct was to cancel going to BlogHer (because I am a leeeeeettle crazy and I do not handle stress well.) But PigHunter is forbidding me from canceling. He says it makes no sense since the trip has been paid for months in advance. Even still, I have a raging case of guilt eating away at my insides because how dare I get on a plane and enjoy 4 days with friends when my husbands car is sitting stranded in a parking lot with a dead transmission.

That's right. The transmission is dead. Again.

I can't help but think about the plans we had to buy Tony a truck as soon as the van was paid off, which would have been last month, but how those plans were shot to hell when a (IS RESISTING CALLING HER A BAD NAME BECAUSE DIRRRRRRTYWHOOOOORE.) woman who was not paying attention pulled out in front of my husband and totaled the mother effing van.

Oh, life, you so ceraaaazy.

I called my dad on the drive home from picking up Tony this morning. I wanted to tell him how HILARIOUS it was the car had broke down (for what we assume is the last time.) two days after we had put new tires on it.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" I asked.

"No, mija. Me and your mom got up at 4 to pray for you."

"You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not joking. We got up at 4 and have been praying for you ever since."

In the past, I would have rolled my eyes and dismissed my Dad and his prayers. This time, I sat silent for a minute and said "Thank you. We could use prayers today."

As I was about to hit "Publish" on this post, I got a phone call from my gynecologist's office.

"Your uterine biopsy came back and there was a change in cells. Doctor wants you to take norethindrone acetate for 3 months and then come back in for another biopsy."

I'm a bit confused as the doctor I saw last week told me that everything "Looked normal, except for a thickening of the uterine lining." Also, I don't know that I've ever been this scared in my life.

On the way home from yet another doctor appointment yesterday, I pulled the van over on the side of the road to talk to God.

I won't bore you with a transcript of the entire conversation, but I will tell you that I begged God to make my period start.

Sounds crazy, I know. But I was desperate. The pain of almost 4 months without one had become more than I could take. And the doctors? They have no answers for me. Or at least won't have any answers until the 28th of this month.

So I broke down and asked God for help with the Ol' Ute. I told him that I had faith that he was listening.

As I drove away, I wondered if he was laughing at me for asking such a thing, but Ihad faith that he understood where I was coming from and why I felt desperate enough to ask for such a thing.

When the doctor asked me yesterday the last time I had a period, I said March 26th.

When I see my endocrinologist at the end of this month and he asks me the last time that I had a period, I will say "July 9th- the day that God answered my prayer."