SQUEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay. I’m done being giddy. For now. Sorry I’m not sorry.

….so as part of the registration process, you’re asked to list 5 things about yourself that others going to BiSC absolutely must know (check out my 5 and all the other amazing bloggers who are going here). I kind of struggled with my list again this year, but ultimately chose to keep it simple: Wendy, Anglophile, Wine, Liz Lemon, and Swearing. That pretty much sums up “me.” But, the more I think about it, the more I realize there are a few other things that I could have added:

1) I’ve always wanted to be a fireman. Like really really bad. One time when I was 8 or 9, I got picked out of all the kids in my class to be the one who got to hold the front of the fire hose during some kind of come-to-think-of-it-probably-unsafe firehouse relay race summer fun day we had at my elementary school. Except it never came to fruition because my parents packed my brothers and I away to Disney World in the back of our un-air-conditioned station wagon with wood paneling on the sides instead.

So…I guess I’m keeping that dream alive? In truth, I’d probably be a terrible fireman because no way could I climb up a ladder without freaking out about the height…BUT I’m not afraid of fire and am kind of a pyro when it comes to making one, I’m super good at making chili, I can drive like a mo fo so I’d be great at driving the fire truck (especially using the horn), and I’d be super awesome at taking care of the fire house’s Dalmatian (because I don’t care what anyone says, every fire station HAS A DALMATION DAMMIT). 

2) I recently upgraded my cable package just so I can get The Science Channel. For real. This conversation actually (or thereabouts) happened:

Me: “Hi. I’d like to pay you all of my monies to upgrade to whatever non-affordable cable package you offer that includes The Science Channel.”

Comcast: “Great! I can help you with that right now!”

Computer sounds: Bleep bloop beep bop bleep bloop bleep….

Comcast:“Excellent! I’ve upgraded your account and you will now have 387 additional channels that you’ve never heard of nor will ever watch, as well as The Science Channel!”

Me: “Fantastic! In HD?”

Comcast: “You better believe it! Best of all, it’ll only be $50 more a month for your preferred package!”

Me: “Ah snap! Now I will once again know How It’s Made, where Mantracker is, what’s odd on Oddities, and what Karl Pilkington’s Ricky-Gervais-Defined Bucket List amounts to! Yahtzee!”

And scene.

3) I’ve been a strong proponent of the use of the word “fancy” for a number of years now. In fact, I take an annoying ownership of its growing popularity. I started it all dammit! (You know, in the same way that Al Gore invented the Internet. Because yeah, that happened.) 

Please be forewarned: I will call you “Fancy” because in addition to its adjective properties, it is also my go-to term of endearment.

BTW- in case you were wondering, the opposite of “fancy” is “rural.” Which I can totally say because I grew up only a block away from corn and soybean fields. The worst. 

4) Last year, I was THE LAST BISC-uit TO LEAVE VEGAS. While I’d like to claim my love of BiSC as the impetus for this distinction (see: my full recap), the truth is a bit more dubious than that.

Remember the Joplin, Missouri tornado? That was happening while I naively waited out my flight delay by getting a pedicure in the Vegas airport. And then, all the flights east were canceled, including mine. For all my traveling, speed walking, and dialing savvy, I was unable to get another flight out…for TWO WHOLE DAYS. So I holed up at the airport La Quinta (incidentally the most expensive hotel I stayed at in Vegas, including the Bellagio!), dead broke, and managed to acquire I-can’t-leave-the-bathroom-for-more-than-30-minutes-altogether FOOD POISONING the night before my second attempt to leave Vegas.

When the time came to check out of the hotel, I was loaded up on Alka seltzer, Immodium, and Drammine. I managed to get through security without being wanded or detained and proceeded to the gift shop where I purchased more alka seltzer and a ceramic “Sin City!” mug in which to sip it over the span of an hour. There I sat at my gate in my jammies with my sunglasses on like some kind of Lohan-wannabe douchebag, smelling of sickness and financial insolvency, freaking out because in less than 12 hours I had movers scheduled to move me out of my apartment in Chicago and I was not yet finished packing. Which is when I saw the toe nail on the carpeting. Which is also when I felt grateful there was no longer anything in my stomach with which to react.

This is what happens when you stay too long in Vegas.

Here’s hoping for a less auspicious ending to BiSC 2012! And here’s hoping I’ll be the lucky blogger who wins the contest for one BiSC participant to go for free courtesy of Paperd, the prettiest little custom wallpaper app for the iPhone and iPod Touch (launching this February).

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Well, to you I say in no uncertain hyperbolic terms, what is life without a turkey craft?!? And a LIZ LEMON turkey craft at that!

This year, my turkey is singing the theme song for Cheezy Blasters into her wine glass while working on her Night Cheese and shuffling along on a treadmill at 2 mph. Meat Cat and some teamster subs were good enough to make cameos! Thanks Meat Cat! (If you don’t know what any of this is referring to, then I don’t know if we can be friends anymore. Oh, just go watch 30 Rock!)

You're my hero, Liz Lemon!

Pinch crafting for Fancy this year was the tag-team crafting duo of my mom and grandma. From where I sit, both created equally disturbing and cracked out turkeys…

My mother: for her sudden can’t-miss-it interest in football and references to “The Game” and some Packer football player she called “Trusty.”

Football is stupid. The end.

And my grandmother: for her…um…well…just take a look and tell me if that shit isn’t cracked out. Is this what happens to us when we get old?

I have no words. No words.

I hope you enjoy our “craftiness” and that you had a fantastic Turkey Day!

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The other day, someone asked me what I did over the weekend. After thinking long and hard (TWSS), I realized holy fuck. I had bacon on three separate occasions within 24 hours (on a burger, straight from the frying pan & sans eggs, and in my mac and cheese). I continued to think long and hard about whether to actually share this feat. Would it be worse to plead forgetfulness to hide my shame (“Oh, yeah, this weekend? I think I took a nap…or something?”) or proudly parade my inadvertent Bacon Fest 2011? Decisions decisions…

During the 20SB Summit, I found myself joking A LOT about being “grandfathered-in” to the community. Joking. But utterly serious. I belong dammit. Don’t you question me, you young whipper-snappers! Never mind that the term “grandfathered-in” bespeaks all things crotchety and old.

I now live in fear of the kidney stone redux that the Internet tells me I am 95% likely to experience in my lifetime. My fear is not so great that I will give up drinking tea or choosing soy milk however. 

I recently realized that I put my underroos on inside out. It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon. I shrugged and continued to wear them that way. I should add that this was the second time in a week I’d been bested by the challenges of wearing one’s clothing right side out. Holla!

During one of my awesomesauce insomnia bouts, I wound up googling “dog ate a silverfish now what” to find out if that’s bad. I went on to wonder if the presence (or previous presence as it were) of said silverfish on the tile floor meant that the dude and I are slobs who live in squalor. Are we “dirty people”? [BF: Yo, if you're reading this, don't answer that because we both know the answer but they don't.]

I am genuinely considering getting a red streak put into my hair later this week. Because, why not? I dye my hair brunette as it is, have for years, but am thinking it could use a little something. Like a streak of fire engine red! I mean, if you can’t dye a red streak into your hair at 31, when can you? #RedStreakFTW!

This conversation happened at work the other day…. Emo: “I can’t believe I showered for this.” Me: “Don’t worry; I didn’t.” And scene.

What can I say? This is what it’s come to….I’m clearly living The Dream. And my thirties? All they’re cracked up to be. Obviously.

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Many thanks to animalcrackers' circus for use of her photo!

Last weekend, I threw together a little meet up for some local bloggers, many of whom I’ve been reading for years and had yet to meet in person! With everyone’s busy schedules- especially over the summer months, there just never seems to be an opportunity to get together! So, I created one. Our own unofficial version of a Chicago Blogger Meet-up/ Tweet-up.

I created an Evite and sent it along to some local bloggers I’m lucky enough to already count as friends and to those bloggers and twitterati I’d been long overdue to meet. I admit, I checked the RSVPs religiously. And of course, I auditioned no fewer than six outfits, finally deciding on a $22 tank dress from Forever 21.

As the event drew near and in lieu of being able to secure a drink special or deal, I planned to give away a bottle of Mumm Napa sparkling wine (my favorite from Napa!). That afternoon, as my cab raced a Chicago rainstorm to Pops for Champagne, I was excited, yes, but nervous too. What if no one ended up coming? I consoled myself with a half-kidding, “Well, then I’ll just drink ALL OF THE CHAMPAGNE!”

Lucky for me- and for the champagne- the unofficial Chicago Blogger Meet/Tweet Up was larger than a party of one and included @SaraLang, Punch It In!, Dysfunction Junction, A Day in the Life, Full of Snark, animalcrackers’ circus, and @shefmeansflower (who we peer pressured onto twitter right then and there).

Together, we passed the hours drinking and talking. About, you ask? Well, we talked about Caryn’s recent engagement and cruise, our various odd illnesses that make us sound like a bunch of 80 year olds, the Field Museum and how their whale exhibit is sad because all of the animals are dead but the Shedd’s “whale encounter” is epic and financially taunting, we discussed Jeremy Wade (“biologist and extreme angler”) and how kickass River Monsters is- hello, they have episodes called “Man Eater” and “Death Ray,” and we laughed at the apparent hilarity that would be a notarized break up letter. Annnnnd that’s the extent of my “notetaking” skills as we broke into our second bottle! Ladies, what did I forget to include?

Thank you again for coming out in a rainstorm and for making my first ever Chicago Blogger Meet/Tweet Up a success!

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I just replayed it eight times in a row and have actual tears in my eyes right now (make sure you have the sound on because that’s the best part). Thanks Juice Box! Or Lean Cuisine! I can never remember which one you are…

And while we’re on the topic of dogs, check back tomorrow for the 30th Toolbag Wednesday (wow, that’s a lot of angst!) courtesy of Poopy People Who Are Mean to Dogs.

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Last week, though (like the bad little blogger I’ve been lately) I only just realized, marked five years for me as a blogger. Reflecting on that time, both upon blogging and the content on which I write, I’ve experienced quite a bit of Life over those years…

I fell in love. And out of love.

I went to London, Jamaica, the Dominican Republic- twice, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Napa, Seattle, Alaska, Las Vegas, and South Carolina. And New York- how could I forget New York?- again and again and again.

I met a boy. And another one. And then another one. Until there came the one who’s stuck by me- so far at least.

I got a dog and am convinced within myself I’ve met my soul mate.

I wrote letters to Jessica Simpson and openly adored Tina Fey.

I got fucking WHOOPING COUGH like it’s the Eighteenth century or some junk, birthed a kidney stone as though I’m some infirm old fucker, and managed to garner food poisoning while stranded in Vegas for 48 hours after a flight cancellation.

I observed and questioned motherhood first hand. I feared babies and their ability to, like bees, smell that fear.

I gave voice to my angst for pregnant smokers, Drunk Bus, Facebook, Icky Couples and other such Toolbags.

I threw a pity parade for myself as friends got engaged, married, had babies, and moved on.

I swore a lot and not always as a result of Who the Fuck is Sharon.

I fell into a depression. And I admitted the one thing I’ve always kept secret and for which I still feel ashamed.

I authored posts about which I am proud and not so proud, and still others I have, at times, felt disappointed went nearly without comment.

I celebrated birthdays and turned 30. Then realized, holy fuck, I’m now IN my thirties!

I bitched about work and covered my ass by requiring a password as my blog took on a more “real life” following.

I said good bye.

I wrote and I didn’t write. And other times I wanted to, but avoided what needed (still needs) writing.

I discovered Twitter and became completely addicted.

I left my home of six years and moved in with a man for the first time in my life.

I baked, took calligraphy, made Thanksgiving turkeys, and ugly Christmas sweaters.

I met other bloggers and became close with several others, and others still whom I have yet to meet in person but hope to one day soon. I greatly admired/ still admire several others from afar.

I Dressed for Dinner.

I found inner peace. Other times, not so much.

I drank. A. Lot. Of. Wine.

I allowed two people and 60 minutes to throw me into what wound up being a mid-life crisis that I still wrestle with some days.

I moved from Blogspot to WordPress and became “Nic Narrates,” then rebranded with my own site.

I contended with the Bathroom Troll. And other related topics.

I mourned for those bloggers who blogged off into the sunset…Charming But Single, Petite Anglais, Anonymous Coworker, Little Red Cape, Ashton Likes, and Surving Myself.

I wrote the things I cannot say to my dad, my mother, my brothers, and my grandfather.

Five years.

In five years, I grew to embrace blogging, found my voice, and began to identify myself as a writer foremost. I’ve been heartbroken, infatuated, furious, defeated, whimsical, sarcastic, jaded, humorous, naive, envious, and sentimental.

In five years, I’ve let you in, let you “know” me. Let you have a bit of myself and tried always to be honest with you despite the discomfort of knowing who else may be reading.

Thank you for indulging me (and my obnoxiously nostalgic links). More than anything, thank you for joining me along the way.

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Fast-forward to four weeks ago and my plane was touching down at the Vegas airport. My cab whisked me off to the hotel I said I’d always stay at if I ever came back: the Bellagio. I had my dinner reservation all set at Olives and my ticket to Cirque de Soleil’s “O” later that evening. I had a day to myself before the Bloggers in Sin City festivities truly got underway and I was a bundle of nerves and excitement. Amongst the bloggers who had signed up to attend, there were several I’d been reading for years, of which I’d only actually ever met Jenn, the Mayor of the Josh Lyman Tiger Sex Den.

It’s a funny thing meeting other bloggers for the first time. I’m always worried they’ll think I’m not at all who I seem to be online. That they’ll think I look dumpy or that I’m boring or, worst of all, that they’ll find other people who are more energetic, happier, or more outgoing to talk to instead of me. I want to be liked by these people I admire, who make me laugh, whose word choices I fawn over, and whose confidence I observe and marvel at…and okay, envy. But, from every other blogger I’ve met already in Chicago, I’ve learned that generally they are one of the most welcoming and accepting groups of people I’ve had the luck to encounter in my lifetime.

So, when I hurried up to my room later that day after seeing “O” and knocked expectantly at the door, I was gushing with anticipation to meet the girl I’d invited to stay with me. Brandy was the first blogger I’d meet at BiSC and she and I quickly became brand new besties just as I’d always thought we’d be! When we decided to room together for the weekend, I confided I felt like the coolest girl in the world because my roomie was her. I still do.

Together, we had a hoot of a time talking about meeting other bloggers, catching up on the drama in our lives that we aren’t writing about right now, and planning a trek to Mandalay Bay’s Shark Reef the next day where we would run in front of a motion camera, making wavelike ripples against an ocean backdrop and spend upwards of 40 minutes petting sting rays.

In the days that followed, Brandy informed me that American monies are “confusing because they’re all the same color and you have to actually look at the number on them,” whereas her Canadian monies are bright and colorful and “made of hope and free health care!” Don’t worry- I called her a whore and slapped her, and then promptly wound up leaving my carry-on bag in the back of the cab as we checked into the Flamingo (which I actually got back when the cab driver found Nicole’s phone number inside and called her and she called me and informed me that “Some cab driver totally has your shit and wants to give it back to you so call him back here’s his number and you probably won’t be able to understand him at all but call him okay I’ll see you soon bye!” Nicole talks really fucking fast and is, of course, awesome not only because she planned the whole BiSC thing but also just, you know, in general).

And then I did finally meet Nicole. And so many other bloggers that the whole experience became a dash overwhelming. I hurried to hug many an almost-stranger and butt into conversations because I was overly excited to actually meet the person behind the blog. Which, let me send my deepest thanks right this minute to Jess for telling Katelin about me and asking her to keep an eye out for me!

That night at the meet and greet, Brandy and I spent several hours unabashedly wearing balloon hats on our heads as we introduced ourselves, and if that’s not a conversation starter right there I don’t know what is! From the people I met that night and the days that followed, I have so many memories and things to smile and laugh about…

Brandy’s destroyed phone from a leaky 20 oz frozen Miami Vice that she was carrying around in her bag while shopping for Kaci’s impromptu bachelorette (which would later bring us all to/near to tears).

Pushing the button to open the drapes at the Flamingo and reciting lines from The Hangover in my late-night-drinking voice as I gazed out at Caesar’s and the strip below while laying in bed. “Hey guys…how about that drive? Hehehehe….” “Could it be? Could I have found another member of my wolf pack?”

There was Suki and Leah from San Fran, who I didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with but am looking forward to seeing again very soon. Labor Day weekend?!

Brandy finding and proudly wearing a tiger shirt, then starting a band with Rachael called “Fanning the Slash.” Yup.

Pseudo stalking Jenny Blake only to scream “YOU’RE KINDA MY IDOL!” when I finally met her as a group of us waited outside Serendipity 3 for late night frozen hot chocolates. (P.S. I’m reading/ working through the prompts in your book right now and just…YES.)

Enlisting Boston bloggers Germana and Ginny to go to Bouchon with Brandy and I before the Black, White, and Gold party at Pure. Thank you for going with us and for walking in our fancy dresses and heels from the Venetian to the Flamingo, then to Planet Hollywood and to Caesar’s. It totally was a sucky walk, but you guys were awesome.

I’ll always remember Brandy replacing swear words with “Holy Dinah!” and teasing her when her Canadian accent would slip out. Agaaaainst. Aboot. Sephoria. Incidentally, if she says “never mind” to you, that means you’re in deep trouble!

There was the Boston crew I just sort of “fell into” lounging by the pool: the aforementioned Ginny and Germana, but also Bob and Carly, and Nicole Marie Says who has now forsaken Chicago for Beantown once more. Hearing them talk about “Southie” boys and comparing commutes during games at Fenway vs. Wrigley made me all ga-ga for everything Boston. Thank you for being so lovely to me and including me in your dinner plans at Sushi Roku! I miss you WICKED hard.

I’ll remember with a smile Ameena’s dinosaur sound & walk, which she showed us after much peer pressure in the midst of Pure’s rooftop lounge.

Brandy worrying (A LOT) about the Kardashian girls, who she informed me are “tormented by their bodies.”

There was Jenn Bizzle Rainbow Brite who will always be known as such for her epic Rainbow Brite costume at the meet and greet. There was Chelsea and her tall, skinny-mininess and adorable dresses from Mod Cloth, Kathleen who I just instantly clicked with but somehow never got to hang out with again. There was Stacey who was ever so sweet, but had to leave early under the saddest of circumstances. There was Katherine with her beauteous glitter shoes in a plethora of colors. There was Simone who was a true dancing queen in her badass Black, White, and Gold party dress. And there was Tiffany who was one of the friendliest people I met and who introduced me to a new Chicago friend- Caryn!

I’ll fondly remember catching the last fountain show of the night at the Bellagio with the kickass Terra, who I absolutely adore and sincerely wish lived closer, and Katelin’s husband, Matt, who was so nice in walking us over there and ensuring we made it in time. It was a lovely way to end the evening! Thank you Terra for lending me Jayme’s flip flops to wear while watching the fountains…and thank you Jayme for unknowingly lending them to someone you still hadn’t met!

And then it was time for us all to say good bye. Brandy hugged Maxie through a wall, which only makes sense insomuch as one can see the photo. Almie wore her pink wig and Kelly and I decided the Farewell Brunch should morph into Misfit Brunch where everyone wears their as yet unworn items of clothing/ accouterments (I’d have brought my ferocious shark lunch bag that I picked up in the Shark Reef gift shop. It’s pretty badass and I proudly carry it to work).

There was the “baller” private gondola ride Brandy and I took before we had to leave for the airport later that day- thanks for that awesomesauce!

And then came the inevitable flight delay back to Chicago, which evolved into a canceled flight, a two-day stay over at the airport La Quinta, and a curious bout of food poisoning. When I finally did leave Sin City, I sat at my gate with an airport gift shop purchased mug filled with alka seltzer, wearing my sunglasses, trying not to throw up, and pretty much penniless. And when I happened to glance down, one of the last things I’ll remember about Vegas is seeing somebody’s toe nail clipping on the carpet. An actual fucking TOE NAIL. No wonder the place smells like feet! Seriously. The Las Vegas airport smells like feet. I should know. I was there 3 times in a week.

These are the things I’ll always think of when I think of Vegas now. I’ll think of you. And you. And you. That time we laughed at Absinthe as Penny relayed a really hilarious and really NSFW story involving sock puppets (seriously, ignore the annoying fucker who recorded it and USE YOUR HEADPHONES). That time we walked right into Pure ahead of eighty bajillion other people standing in line. And that time we had Second Dinner at 2 am at the burger place in the Flamingo. And I’ll think of this, courtesy of Almie, and watch it over and over again.

BiSC happened at a pivotal moment in my life and I’m so happy and grateful for being able to go. I know so many more bloggers now and know that should I have the opportunity to travel to the cities they call home, there will be a welcoming hug and drinking buddy waiting for me.

Those were my thoughts as I moved out of the apartment I’ve called home for the past six years and in with my boyfriend. The last time I’d give a cab my address was when I came back from Vegas. Saying it aloud that night, sitting in the quiet of the darkly lit cab, it hit home. After Vegas, everything was irrevocably going to change.

And, it has.

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