Reasons you will hate me

Friday night for the computer-azzi.

So this is one of those self-indulgent posts where I blog about other bloggers and I read their blogs to see what they've said about meeting me and they check in here to see what I've written about meeting them and we all congratulate each other about how clever we are and lie about orgies taking place and people being fingerbanged at the bar and then when the swelling of love has subsided we'll go back to our daily lives.
If you don't want to read about it go here and stop bothering me.


Here are some things about MELBOURNE GROGBLOGGING 2005 :


1. Name tags!
I had heard whispers of name tags being used but refused to believe it was so, as sticky labels with URL's written on them is JUST ABOUT THE GAYEST THING EVER. Then I was accosted at the door by the teen pin-up boy of the Melbourne blog world brandishing an artline texta and a tag reading 'MIRANDA AIREY-BRANSON'. Could I be more flattered at the comparison with everyone's favourite glamour Liberal?


2. Comrades!
There were three Pandagate t-shirts in attendance. I was asked why I wasn't wearing mine. It didn't go with my outfit, obviously. And didn't even come close to showing enough cleavage (cheers to Fluffy by the way, who kept shoving twenty-dollar bills down my front. I made a fucking fortune last night).
Beloved Bucky shamelessly tried to start a WWF-style smackdown between me and Joseph Believe by whispering to us both that Mabs liked the other one better. We eyed each other off suspiciously and then after some conversation figured we were kind of on equal footing since she's asked him out for coffee and prank-called my house. Joseph set a date for a three-way, stat.


3. Tactile!
I'm not sure if everyone was a little over-excited at all the promises of upskirts and laybacks and group sex and Clem Bastow in hotpants or what-not. But I've never seen so many people taking photos of bosoms in my life. Fluffy had hers out for tagging and it all went insane from there. Just before I made my exit, an incredibly strange but not unattractive young woman was insisting that she have a photo of hers next to everyone else's. Flashes were going off. Nipples were being tweaked. Legendary Alpha-Male Tillops was doing his best not to look. It was chaos.
I was also accosted by a very frisky Leif Forward , who kept randomly poking at me. It's just lucky for him he's so charming and witty or Sherriff may have snapped him.


I also saw Agent Fare Evader's balls. It's all coming back to me now.



4. Topics!
Here is what we talked about: The collective genius of Darp Hau , Robert Corr and Ausculture Jess , how difficult it was to read name tags in the dark without looking like a leering pervert, how remarkably un-dorky it was (a lie), how Jeremy Lefty was coping with his pending midget-sex court appearance and if it was really true about him, Annalise Braakensiek and the tennis ball machine , Mark Latham - what's going on there?, Andrew Bolt writing for the Age - what's going on there?, how smooth and youthful-looking Agent Fare Evader's skin was, how long we'd been writing blogs for, why we wrote blogs, how long we planned to continue writing blogs, blog blog blog blog blog. It was fizzli.


5. Folk!
So thanks for making a killer joke Desci , and I'm sorry I tried to repeat it later to Sugar , who looked at me blankly. Sorry I didn't say goodbye, Jellyfish . And to everyone else I met and stuff , thanks for being funny, warm, excitable folk who let me kiss you goodbye even though I don't know you that well. Apologies if this is like liner notes on a hit record and I've forgotten someone. It just means it was good gin.
Yeah, and there were apparently Liberals there too but we failed to make a mind-body connection. Everyone knows I don't 'do' conservative, anyway.




It was a charming evening. Then we came home and hired a red-headed 19 year old escort named Nikki and had a three-way. Then it was time for sleep.




998 days til the next election.

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