So, yeah, my friend David and I threw a little party on the last night of the DNC.  I say friend loosely; I’m not sure he’s still talking to me after the whole Sarah Palin speech.  We sort of, well, disagree. Bygones.  I’d still make out with him.

There are 8 million things I could say about being in Denver on that night, while that speech took place, at the tail end of that convention, but someone else has said all of it better.  I will say this, though; I have the best blog friends ever.  I sat in a bar that was more or less a 50/50 split of Democrats and Republicans, and I am serious when I say that if those people were the ones running the campaigns, America would be a much more respected place today.  A bar full of booze, a city full of opinions, and no one got into so much as a spat.  Decency is the sexiest personality trait, if you ask me.

My Left Nutmeg, which is without doubt the best names blog in the land, not only came all the way from Connecticut to Denver and then to our little party, they brought me one Official Media Pass from their site.  The way to my heart is through the keepsakes.

Antman, founded and owner of Cre8Buzz, made a rare public appearance and in keeping with his mystique, took one very shrouded-in-mystery picture with yours truly.

Mysterious, no?  The Blogger formerly known as Andy got all the ladies nametags that night.  Really, this is just the tip of the iceberg.  By the time he went home, no one knew what color his shirt actually was.

I think they were really funny, but maybe I was drunk after all.  I look like an evil undead zombie in this picture, but I’ve been waiting years to get a picture with Wheels.  I may never get the chance again.

And if you ever need an inappropriate folk singer/ukulele player, I totally have your guy.

Aimee Greeblemonkey (did you know we used to be neighbors) (she also totally made our logo for the night) and Julie from MotherGooseMouse (oh yes, she will be mine) made it down, and Aimee and I did not manage to get one picture together.  We did get several drunk pictures together at BlogHer, though; I think we can call that a wash.

Warm and fuzzy, yo.  Warm.  And Fuzzy.

We had something of a 15 year high school reunion, what with a shitton of us from high school all there.

Now I have an excuse to skip the 20 year.  Not like I needed one.  While I’m at it, this girl just so happens to be, like, my best friend and through 17 years, through being my freaking maid of honor, we’ve never managed to get one picture together.  Until a week ago.

Molly makes the best nametags ever.  Mine?  Said, “Mr Lady if you’re nasty.”  Epic.

There are a bazillion other people that came, and I have a bunch of other pictures that have been sent my way, but I can’t find them because I am blond.  And disorganized.  So, I’ll just say this: If you were there, thanks.  If you helped pay for it, double thanks.  If you are Hubs and failed in every way (or succeeded in failing) to get a picture taken with me, you owe me.  And now I know what you look like.  Mwahahahaha.

Pictures stolen with a little slice of love from Tara (Lijit), Aimee (Greeblemonkey) and Molly (Soapy Water)

Um, ouch. 

(In a good way, of course.)

More to come, once I pry myself away from Denver.

In 6 short days, I will hop on an airplane, fly over the Rocky Mountains, and land in my homesweethome.  I will hop in a cab at Denver International Airport, haul ass downtown, curl my hair in the bathroom of a wine bar, slip on some fishnets and throw the best party the world has ever known, or ever will know.

Or something like that.  I swear I’m bringing a toothbrush.

Anyways, The Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash 5000, Donkeys Over Denver, is August 28th at 7:30 pm at the bar I worked at for, like, FOUR years, Trios Enoteca.  There will be food.  There will be booze.  A lot of that will be free.  F-R-E-E.

You can thank Lijit.com, You2Gov.com, and my personal soft spot, Cre8Buzz.com for getting me drunk and probably knocked up providing all those amazing bloggers with a few break-the-ice drinks and some snacks.

Please, if you do nothing else today, click through to those links.  You can totally turn your girl scout pin if you do.  They are SAVING MY ASS, yo.  I love them all more than chocolate.

If you’re feeling really crazy, you can throw our little animated gif (thank you RWTY Sam, Will @GamingWith Baby, Ender @RedMonkey, Ryzun13, Matt @RedSparks, Justin Rummel and BusyDad for helping and/or offering to help me with that) (my friends ROCK, yo) on your sidebar. 

Here’s the code:

a href=”http://rockymountainblogs.com/blog1.php“><img src=”http://picasion.com/pic3/3b597ec80d2b7fcfe22e2efded1e2ac0.gif” width=”160″ height=”160″ border=”0″ alt=”make avatar” /></a

(Add a bracket on the beginning and end of that, okay?)

If you happen to be in Denver next Thursday, pleasepleaseplease come by, grab a beer, and say hi.  I am missing the birthday party of the dead sexiest man I’ve ever met in my whole life to throw this party; I will need distraction. *wink*

And yeah, let’s take the White House back, shall we?  GO BLUE.

While I’m waiting on pictures from my camera, I might as well tell y’all about this:

David and I are officially ready to announce the

Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash 5000 : Donkeys Over Denver

The website is up and running, with a spiffy header designed by the always lovely Aimee Greeblemonkey, Trios Enoteca is booked for the night, there’s a keg waiting for us from Wynkoop Brewery, we’ve got Lijit officially sponsoring the event, and there’s a rumour that my old buddies at CreBuzz might help us fund our little event, too.

Which would rock.

Because we don’t have enough booze yet.

And booze is going to be really, crucially important in a room full of democrats AND republicans.

The official details are:

August 28, 2008
Trios Enoteca
1730 Wynkoop·Denver, CO 80202
7:30 PM to Close

Free Food and Free Beer & Wine
(In limited supplies and only if we like you.)

RSVP and get additional info available at our website.

Please, if you wouldn’t mind passing along the info to anyone you know who will be at the convention, near the convention, affected by the convention or thirsty after the convention, we’d be really grateful.

See, I am supposed to be talking about my little weekend getaway still, because yeah….there’s some unfinished business there, but I’m not ready just yet. As Jane the Sane so beautifully put it, I’ve gone all Rainbow Brite on crack for a few days. I am in love with Every. Single. Person. In. The. Whole. Wide. World. Specifically, everyone in The Grand Ballroom of the Westin St. Francis Friday last. Really, if you were there, and you are reading this, I would really like to stick my tongue down your throat and wiggle it around ever so slightly.

Unfortunately, Brainy Smurf over here packed 27 shades of eye-shadow, 15 hair products, 3 dresses, 2 hairbrushes, and 0 cameras. Did you know that there are several pictures on FlickR, and that sifting through them for ones to steal borrow is the slightest bit time consuming? Who’da thunk it? (PS: If you happen to have any that I am in, my email is heymrlady at gmail dot com and if you send them to me, I’ll promise to never ever make you cry in public again. EVER.)

Long story short, we’re not discussing that just yet. So, dammit, I have to find something ELSE to talk about. Let’s start with my insane child, shall we?

Do any of you have two year old girls? Two going on three very soon would do. Riddle me this; are they all neurotic freaks? Here’s the thing: I gave the kid her bottle back. Shut up. I gave her the bottle back, because it’s her One True Love, but she doesn’t just take the bottle and drink it. She has to PERFECTLY align the label on the bottle to her mouth. We toy with this, thinking it’s just been a 34 month long fluke. We hand it to her with the ounces side facing one way or the other, and every single bloody time she takes it, she turns it so that Avent is right under her lips. Today I upped the ante by replacing the bottle nipple with the pop-in sippy cup nipples they make (best invention ever, btw) and they OF COURSE will not line up. That obsessive compulsive fuddy duddy spent 5 minutes trying to figure out how to make it work, and then told me her bottle was Bwoken. Seriously, this cannot be either normal nor an excellent sign of things to come.

She also follows me around the house, closing cabinet doors behind me. I am 99% sure her father taught her this trick, to shame me, just as he taught his sons that ‘You can give momma a wedgie in the front!‘ Long story, another day.

And because I am the shittiest mother to grace God’s good earth, this child has no concept of Getting In Trouble and cannot handle it when it happens. On the rare occasion that I decide to play mommy, it goes a little something like this:

Me: 3of3! No! No writing on the couch with Sharpie Smearing black lipstick all over the bathroom Using an entire bottle of Windex on the houseplants Sticking that *whatever* up your hootchie cootchie Eating entire pounds of butter!

Her: Waaaaaaa! Momma, I hunry!

Me: No you’re not. You have half a sandwich IN YOUR MOUTH.

Her: Momma, I too hot!

Me: It’s 50 degrees out.

Her: Momma, I too cold.

Me: You are under a blanket, fool.

Her: Momma, I too small!

Me: You reached the Sharpies just fine.

Her:  Momma, I meed wash my hans!

Me:  You’re in the bubble bath.

Her:  Momma, I meed bubble baf!

Me:  You’re IN THE BUBBLE BATH.

Her: Momma, I sweepy.

Me: You’ve been awake for 35 seconds.

Her: Momma, why you hurt me?

Me: I’m calling you from San Francisco.

Her: Momma, no screaming! You HEAR me?

Me: Donor! (for the few new kids here, we call dad The Donor. It’ll grow on you)

Tell me that whole song and dance isn’t the slightest bit Freudian.

You know when you’re cooped up for a few years months weeks with your kids and then, by the grace of god, someone lets you get away from them for a few hours, and you come home all anxious to see them and pumped and primed to be the Greatest Mother Alive! ? Yeah, that lasted for all of 12 hours. My kids were Double Grounded on my first day back. I imagine they just plum forgot that mom doesn’t always take kindly to one kid smashing the other kids face into the carpet while the smashed kid whacks the smashing kid in the back of the head with a baseball bat.

Whatever. It’s an easy thing to forget, I suppose.

I did come home to the World’s Cleanest House. Those of you who have been reading around here for a while have heard some rather jaded (read; straight up snake venom) come out of my mouth about The Donor. Well, let me tell you something I haven’t before…that man keeps a house the way Alice the Maid (aka Mr Brady’s little afternoon delight, I’m betting. Minx, that one) only wishes she could have. My man? Can clean circles around me. And if you don’t think that’s the single hottest quality a man can possess, well, you’re just deluding yourself. I have never, EVER, been so attracted to him in my whole life as I was the day I got home. In 4 days, he dug me out of a very large hole that I had worked months on getting myself into (even matched the three separate grocery bags I had full of ‘unmatched’ socks hidden in three separate locations) and I am currently accepting wagers on how quickly I will be undoing all the good he did. Starting bid is whatever a maid service charges for one full days work. Or a hooker. ‘Cause I’m going to either have to clean or keep him so busy he won’t notice.

One last thing before I go; If you’re planning on being in Denver around the Democratic National Convention, well, um, we’re kind of throwing you a party after Obama’s speech and since we’ve had some technical difficulties on the Business end of the deal, David and I are starting from scratch. So, yeah, I need a head count. Who wants to come get all silly drunk either toasting Obama or drowning their sorrows? I KNOW BlogHer’s coming in full effect, and I’d better see all your shining faces at our party that night.

I’ll totally be there. In a black little low cut number. And a bar. With BOOZE. Just sayin’.

There. Sufficiently dodged another bullet. Whew.