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I’m not packing, I’m not desperately writing a few posts to auto-post while I am gone. I’m not excited.

Because I’m not going to Blogher like every other blogger I know.

I could go to Blogher 2010 but I have better things to do. I have to figure out how to get more than 7 readers in my Feedburner chicklet. I have to referee all the stupid fights the neighborhood girls are having while at my house ( I am pleased to say I made all of them cry yesterday). I have to clean out underneath my refrigerator thanks to the guilt I am feeling after reading what was underneath Cardiogirl’s oven, and how long it had been since she swept that leg. I have to read all of the emails from the people going to Blogher telling me about the swag I am not getting but if I follow them on Twitter and use their hashtag #imaloserwhoisntgoingtoblogher I might have a CHANCE to win consolation swag. I have to bathe the cat.

I could have gone to Blogher but why? How much fun can it be to go to New York City, meet some really cool people whom you adore and respect because they write so damn well, and take pictures with the Jimmy Dean Sun?

It can’t be that much fun. This thing is way overblown.

I’m fine with the fact that I am not going to Blogher 2010. It gives me some alone time that is desperately needed.

Just remember ladies, while you are there hobnobbing with the likes of Dooce, Pioneer Woman, and The Bloggess, I’m back here in the blogosphere, writing my little fingers to the bone, visiting all the other losers who didn’t want to go either. They will be my readers I tell you, mine!

(maniacal laughter)

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