Awkwardness at BlogHer (Reliving the Misery)—Part 2 of 5

This is post #2 in a five-part series about how awkward I was at BlogHer ’10 in New York last week. Here’s the first installment if you’re interested.

Join me, if you will, on a full day of reminiscing how horribly awkward I felt (and really was) at the blogging conference everyone’s been talking about. Every few hours I’ll post another humiliating experience so I can relive my shame in the hopes of getting it out of my system.

I have a whole year to fine-tune my cool.

Yet somehow I don’t think it’ll be long enough.


Awkward of All Awkwards #4

I have lived and relived this moment a million times since it happened, searching desperately for how I could’ve done it differently. Oh, how awesome my life would be if only I had—

Well, let me set the scene:

Saturday, early afternoon, last breakout session of the day.

I’d been needing to use the bathroom since the session before (nearly two hours), but I was loathe to miss out on even a second of BlogHer goodness for fear of not hearing the one tip that could change my blog and make me rich and famous (emphasis on the rich, please). Who wants to sit on the toilet while life passes her by? Not me! I don’t have time for that! I’m a go-getter! YEAH!

Except I’m not, because I finally gave in to the monster in my bladder. Just minutes before the last session of the conference was to begin, I whispered to my friend, “Hey, if I leave my purse here will you watch it for me while I go to the bathroom?”

Of course she agreed, that’s what good friends do.

I snuck out of the rapidly-filling breakout room and dashed down the hall in search of the loo.

Now, I run like an ostrich on the best of days, but when I have to pee? It’s not a pretty sight, let’s just say. So there I was, flip flops flipping, chest flapping (I haven’t had a new bra in three years), hair flying as I ran—RACED—to find a toilet in time to get back and hear the panel that would make my life a success.

And then I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks (imagine how ridiculous THAT looked):


I had heard she would be at BlogHer, but till that very moment I hadn’t seen even a glimpse of the fire red hair. Yet there she was, standing in the hall practically alone while everyone else was mingling in the breakout rooms, which means that SHE WASN’T EVEN SWARMED BY MASSES OF DESPERATE WOMEN! There were only two ladies talking with her, both of whom, I could tell, were fans like me.

As I was processing all this information, I was still standing there in the middle of the hall, still staring, mouth open, at my business-blogging idol, still looking like a fool and still needing to pee.

Finally I worked up the courage to saunter right over there and ask to take a picture with her.

UNTIL I REALISED I HAD LEFT MY PURSE WITH CHELSIE. Complete with my camera, my business cards, and my breath mints (still hadn’t brushed my teeth [just kidding I had by then]).

I was petrified with indecision.

I should talk to her anyway. No, what’s the point? She’ll never remember me. I don’t have anything to tell her! There’s nothing I could say that she hasn’t heard from a bajillion fans already. Gosh, her dimples are fantastic. Of course this would happen during the one—ONE—thirty-second window of the entire weekend that I am without my purse. I wonder if she can go anywhere without people recognising her? I should go introduce myself. No way, not without my business cards.

And then, just like that, I turned around and walked back to my spot at the breakout session.

It was a long walk, let me tell ya. With every step I took, P-dub’s voice got softer and softer. It was like, goodbye, hopes and dreams, I’ll see you NEVER AGAIN.

When I got back to the class I told Chelsie—with tears welling up in my pathetic eyes—what I’d done, how I’d sabotaged my life’s everloving happiness, how I’d never get an opportunity like that again, how tremendously I’d blown my chance.

Why, Chels?” I asked. “Why did I do that? Why didn’t I just talk to her?”

“It’s because you are always looking for that one perfect moment,” she said, “and you don’t have enough faith that you have the power to create those moments by yourself. You trust Fate too much, and yourself not enough.” (Profound, right? She’s getting ready to be a psychologist, you should all sign up to be her clients.)

I realise this may not seem overly awkward to any of you, but it was. It was a turning point in my life.

What it boils down to is this:

I’m a fool.

I could spend hours (and I have) blaming my idiocy on other influences—it’s Pepsi’s fault for providing so much free soda that I had to pee in the first place; it’s Pioneer Woman’s fault for looking so intimidating; it’s Chelsie’s fault for being nice and agreeing to hold my purse; it’s BlogHer’s fault for choosing a venue with bathrooms so far from where I was at that particular moment; it’s God’s fault for ever creating me in the first place—but when it comes right down to it, I can’t deny that the only fault was mine.

I missed my chance to tell Ree Drummond that the way she runs her blog/business is an inspiration to me.

(I would normally be showing a picture of me with Pioneer Woman, except, well…y’know.)

And I’ve been depressed ever since.

Plus I never even got to pee.


Here are the rest of the posts in this series:

Part the First

Part the Third

Part the Fourth

Part the Fifth

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
This entry was posted in failures, fiascos, mediocrity, oh brother what next, sad things, woe is me and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to Awkwardness at BlogHer (Reliving the Misery)—Part 2 of 5

  1. Alaina says:

    aw, man! I’m really feeling for you in this…that totally sucks. I would blame Pepsi, too. Soda is a bitch.

  2. Ha! So, at least you missed out on being monumentally awkward while talking to her…like I was at her book signing. I recorded her on my phone saying congratulations on the baby to my sister-in-law’s sister that was unable to stay and meet her due to the baby in her belly. That poor woman puts up with a lot.

  3. Shesten says:

    Yeah, I’m with Alaina. Blame Pepsi.

  4. Chloe says:

    I’m really sorry. But at least you could see Pioneer Woman in PERSON. I’m jealous. That’s something impossible for me… :( At least she decides to come to Spain.

  5. I’m so so so terribly sorry. I know exactly how you feel – after I talked to PW at the book signing I was so embarrassed I could have just curled into a ball forever. Then I felt even stupider, because really, what kind of a thing is that to get upset about? But yeah, it really made me feel dreadful. In fact, thinking about it, I still do.

  6. Molly says:

    The pregnant lady I am, kept thinking as I read, “is she going to make it to the bathroom?!” completely concerned for the well-being of your bladder. I have no idea who that person is… but I have no desire to worship anyone new, so I am not going to follow the link… I can be strong. :)

    don’t be depressed, maybe next time you will wear your camera around your neck the whole time. :)

  7. the MIL says:

    Let’s go bra-shopping in Great Falls!

  8. jami says:

    Seriously! So funny

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  11. because i’m sort of a terrible person, i really love hearing about other people’s awkward moments. loving these stories – ha!

  12. Krissie says:

    I saw Ree a few times at BlogHer9. We shared an elevator with her and her boys, and Fat Bridesmaid didn’t know who she was (really???) so we just had a fun conversation…and then I flipped my lid when they got out of the elevator.

    And then? Later in the weekend, when I made Lorrie speak to Ree, she asked where we were from. When I said Kentucky, she said, “We’re almost neighbors!…oh, no…wait. Maybe not.” I said, “My brother lives in Kansas. He’s almost your neighbor too!”

    Even P-Dub has awkward moments.

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