We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.

So the other day I was thinking that I really should post a few things about myself that someone meeting me in person for the first time - say, at Blogher for instance (9 days! 9 freaking days!! oh my christ, I don't have cute shoes yet.) - might need to know, lest they get the wrong idea from my blog that I'm actually fun in person and then be horribly disappointed when they find out the truth.

(That's me, the eternal optimist. Hasn't occurred to me that you all might actually like me. No. That would be silly.)

Then Deb, that damn women who for months taunted me with her "I'm going to Blogher", "Oops, no I'm not going", "Okay, maybe I will go", "No, I can't go", "Hooray! I'm going to Blogher!", kindly asked me and some other ladies to provide some insight into who the hell we thought we were. So I figured it was time to write it all down. You know, so everyone doesn't have to wait until I've had a few drinks in me to find out.

(And, no, this is not a meme. I refuse to call it that because there is a moratorium on memes on this here site until further notice. Unless I get tagged with a really good one - like "What five Hanna Barbera characters would you be" or "Name your four favorite pubic hair styles" - then I'll temporarily lift it.)

You're just breathless with anticipation, aren't you?

• First of all, I'm shy. Really shy and incredibly self conscious. If I'm out of my element -which is any situation that happens outside the four walls of my home or in my dog training classes - then I tend to be pretty quiet. I'm an observer, y'all. I like to people watch. And yes, I'll be watching you.

However...

• (I must preface this next tidbit with this disclaimer: I'm very interested in the Blogher conference itself and all it has to offer. I'm very much looking forward to hearing from the speakers and learning how to be the very best blogger I can be.)
  
  Ahem.
  
  Have you seen the movie "Blind Date" with Kim Basinger and Bruce Willis? You know, what ever you do don't get her drunk? Well, it's been years since I've spent more than a day or two away from my husband and my kid. Since I went on a short trip to Cancun with a girlfriend to celebrate our divorces, as a matter of fact. Let's just say I don't remember parts of that vacation and we'll leave it at that.

• Did I mention I was shy? Yeah. You might not notice it, though. You might just think I'm "reserved", "aloof" or "a snooty bitch" but I'm not. Well, I am reserved but I'm not a bitch. All of the time.

Remember, I'll be watching you. (two fingers pointing to my eyes, then to your eyes, then to my eyes)

• It's one thing to refer to myself as "Mrs. Chicky" online but it is completely another to refer to myself as my blog moniker in person. I've done it once or twice and it makes me feel extremely dorky. I may just introduce myself by my real name and let you all figure it out.

• On that note, I suck at remembering people's names. If you're wondering why I'm staring at your chest it's because I'm rereading your name tag for the millionth time. And because I'm jealous of your rack.

• I can put a lipstick in my bra and paint my lips upside down with no hands.

• Turn-ons: The movies of John Hughes. John Cusack. Anthony Bourdain. Jeremy Piven (in his pre-Entourage days. Cupid, anyone?). Cookbooks and tell-all novels about the restaurant industry, wine snobs, or foodies in general. Men with nice legs. People who love dogs. And long walks on the beach at sunset.

• Turn-offs: Rude people. Ralph Feinnes (outside of his work as Voldemort I've never cared for any of his movies). Colin Farrel (besides the accent I just don't see the attraction). Cruelty to animals. Skinny jeans (mainly because I can't wear them). Any cocktail that doesn't have vodka or gin and dry vermouth but are called "martinis" just because they're served in a martini glass. (Not that I won't drink them - they are mighty tasty - it's the overuse of the term that bothers me.)
  

So that's me in a nutshell (Oh no! I'm stuck in this nutshell!). Now I'm calling upon the Canadian contingent to play along (that would be you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and maybe you if you've decided to go after all. And any other Canadian lady I've missed). It's not a tag since this is not a meme. I just want to know more about all my Canadian sisters who will be attending the conference. And because, secretly, I want to be an honorary Canadian. I'm hoping someone will bring me a maple leaf pin or a toque or something. Maybe some poutine. Although, when I think of poutine, I think of poutine rapee. Mmmmm, poutine rapee. Now that is good food to eat after a night of drinking.

(And a huge shout-out to the person who can identify the quote in the title of this post. I felt it was quite relevant to the situation. Clues are sprinkled throughout this post.

Way to go Avalon and Painted Maypole. They knew the title of this post was a quote from The Breakfast Club. Not very hard, I know, especially with all my hints. But I'm standing by my lack of interest in Ralph Feinnes. Quiz Show was good, I'll give you that, but he just doesn't do it for me.)

(And I should mention that Redneck Mommy was nice enough to correct my poor Canadian cuisine lingo. Poutine is never spelled with an "S" no matter how many you order. My bad. But I don't know, I distinctly remember some pretty drunk Canucks ordering those in the diners after hours and it always sounded like "Poutines". But that could have been them slurring their words. Yeah, that's probably what it was.)