Be Sure To Wear A Flower In Your Hair.

San Francisco.  The city is the same and different all at once; it's foggy and cool here, and the view from the 32nd floor party room was spectacular.

So far I have:

*Unwittingly snubbed a fellow BlogHer (sorry about not being more chatty on the shuttle! I was, um, sweaty. and tired. and didn't realize I probably came off as an unfriendly whore until much, much later.)

* Been screamed at by an Angry German.  Apparently I was supposed to print off the confirmation email to prove I had prepaid for my shuttle ride.  I didn't realize this, and I wasn't about to fork over another $20 (which I didn't have on me, anyway).  My apologies to the people who had to wait in the shuttle while I called my husband to get the confirmation number, and then while Mr. Angry German tried to call it in to confirm.  Also, apologies on his behalf to the people who got stuck behind the blue van because Mr. Angry German had parked illegally.  

*Attended 2 parties.  I met and molested several notables: Redneck Mommy? As UberHot as she appears in photos.  Oh, The Joys? Shorter and even more adorable than you thought.  CityMama?  I almost peed my pants when she looked at my business card and said "Hey! I know this blog."  

And now? Now it is approximately 11pm California time. That's 2am EST for those of you keeping track at home.  My head is going to explode any second, so I'm off to sleep.  I'll wave at Mallory for you; MochaMomma? She's still out painting the town somewhere.  That woman? Knows how to party.

To be continued, my friends.