I met dooce last night! This is the giant exciting post (that Mom said don’t bother with).  

 Reread my previous entry about dooce here.

Let's go meet dooce!

Let's go meet dooce!

TB is a super big fan. She noticed dooce was here for a book signing. We braved a winter storm warning, had a delicious Lebanese dinner, and went to the reading. It’s tough to collectively frame all my thoughts the day after, but I’ll do my best.

TB gets the bits I don’t get, obviously- I don’t have a baby. It’s amazing to see all the women that can relate – there was an awesome turnout (more people than will ever even buy the book I’m never going to publish, never mind want to MEET me!).

Super excited fan yo!

Super excited fan yo!

I’m more interested in the blogging your life stories. I could see writing on cnet or even Yahoo!, but I have a hard time truly opening up and telling y’all stories sometimes. That lady has it ALL out there, and for a million people she’s never met. That’s just plain crazy to me! She made it look so easy, no big thing. Her reading was something I could never do, not with 12 family members staring up at me!

Talking about sex in front of her parents...

Talking about sex in front of her parents...piece of cake

We headed over to the King’s English, a super adorable book store I want to own one day and sit around reading in, and got our books signed. TB was so nervous that later in the car she was sure she said something creepy, but her filter was on, she only gushed the just right amount. I couldn’t think of anything to say (dude, people brought her gifts, that threw me) but did tell her husband outside that he does an awesome job programming. That was all I could think of.

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6 thoughts on “Dooce

  1. Pingback: Posts about Dooce as of April 16, 2009 » The Daily Parr

  2. Is that second picture supposed to be me searching for my dignity? I did not find it, and had to consciously resist the urge to lean across the book-signing table and hug Heather… or lick her– it would have been a crap-shoot, so it’s good that I resisted. She went through a lot of the same experiences I did after having a kid, although I, thankfully, did not require medication or hospitalization to get through the bad times alive. Consequently, I find myself reading her book now and alternately laughing or crying, because I know what it feels like to think you’re heart might explode with joy one minute and then consider faking your own death to get away from it all the next. What else can I say about Dooce? I’m a fan because I am a similar brand of crazy.

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