Find Me at SCBWI and You'll Get a Surprise! hint: It's EVERNEATH swag!

Tomorrow, I leave for the SCBWI conference in L.A. 


I can't wait.


To celebrate, I have some special EVERNEATH swag for anyone who finds me there and says, "Hello."


Remember that awesome DEAD ELVISES logo my friend sent me? 

www.tarlsscribbles.com

Well, I have had it rearranged and printed on... guitar picks!

An actual Dead Elvis strummed with this guitar pick. I guarantee it.

They've got the DEAD ELVISES on the front, and EVERNEATH on the back, with the release date of January 2012. 


These awesome little commemorative doohickees will be in my purse, and if you come up and say hi to me, you'll get one! Whether you like it or not. No, seriously, even if I think you just happened to glance at me from across the room, I will leap frog over the other conference-goers and shove this pick into your cold dead hand.


I don't know why you are dead in this scenario. How did it get so dark in here anyhow? 


The point is, you can either take the picks nicely, in your hands, or you can take the pick between your eyebrows, chinese-star style.


Wait. Sam says that is not the point. Hold on one second... lemme see if I can locate the point...


Here it is. The point is, introduce yourself to me! And you'll get a treat! But not in a creepy way. Why did I need to clarify that? 


Argh! Does someone have a crash-course in appropriate self-promotion that I can take? 


Anyway, I'm easy to spot. I have blond hair, a red scarf, and I'm always looking off to the side.

And I usually have a zombie finger with red nail polish on my shoulder.

People have asked me what this finger is doing on my shoulder. I tell them it is the finger of my muse. She likes the red nail polish.


So, the point is, say hi to me at the conference, or I will sic my zombie muse on you. She will in turn shove the guitar pick down your...


Wait. Sam says that is not the point.


Ah, here it is. The point is, hope to meet you at the conference!

M.T. Anderson's Break Out Session, or Why My Head Exploded at SCBWI

Howdy.

I promised I'd do a post on M.T. Anderson's breakout session for Experimental Fiction at SCBWI. 

Here he is practicing his speech in a corner before the class. We thought that was so cool. 

He started things off by discussing a poem by Kurt Schwitters.

It's probably not a surprise that this man wrote Experimental poetry. Anyway, we discussed his "Poem 25". I tried to find it on the stupid internetz, but no luck. So, I'll do my best to recreate what I remember.

25

25, 25, 26

26, 26, 27

27, 27, 28

32, 34, 36, 38

33, 35, 37, 39

56

9, 9, 9

57

8, 8, 8, 

58

7, 7, 7, 

59

6, 6, 6, 

3/4, 6, 6, 

48

4, 4, 4, 

3/4, 4, 4,

4, 1/4, 

4

Okay, so that's not the precise poem, but it's something like that, and it is weird for two reasons: 

One: this poem happens to be my exact answer when somebody asks me my age.

Two: I don't know if you noticed, but this poem is made up entirely of numbers. 

Somehow when M.T. Anderson read it aloud, though, it made perfect sense, and I started thinking, "Duh, of course 59 would be followed by three 6's. It's an inevitability! And the third line is just foreshadowing the triumph of the number 4."

Thankfully, M.T. hit on something closer to my own reading level next. 

He's all, "Notice how Seuss goes from counting the fish to discussing the colors?"

I start nodding my head emphatically. "Yes! Yes! I get that! I totally noticed that!"

At one point, Matt Kirby (or He Who Shall not be Named on the Blog) wondered how to translate experimental examples like these into longer works, like novels. 

Matt has a point. I wouldn't want to read an entire novel written in numbers.

I'm a little unclear on the concept, and I'm not familiar with large works of experimental fiction, but the lecture reminded me of how much I enjoyed the movie Brick.

The movie uses words in a new way (to me), where the dialogue means what it sounds like spoken aloud, even if the words don't make sense by their lonesomes. 

For instance, after the main character Brendan gets beat up by a thug, he confronts the gang leader "The Pin". Read it out loud. Don't be afraid. Even if you're at work:

Brendan Frye: Your muscle seemed plenty cool putting his fist in my head. I want him out.
The Pin: Looky, soldier...
Brendan Frye: The ape blows or I clam. 

And later, telling his friends he doesn't want to involve the authorities:

Brendan Frye: No, bulls would gum it. They'd flash their dusty standards at the wide-eyes and probably find some yegg to pin, probably even the right one. But they'd trample the real tracks and scare the real players back into their holes, and if we're doing this I want the whole story. No cops, not for a bit. 

Cool, huh? 

I wish I could compose some conclusive sentence, summing it all up, but I lack the brain cells. Maybe Matt Kirby could. He seemed to be on the same level as M.T. 

Leave a comment, so I know I'm not the only one going... Wha??? 

Or just tell me what y'all are up to this weekend.

LA SCBWI Recap, in which I meet my Agent, and dance the Love Shack with M.T. Anderson

Hey y'all! 

So, I'm back from the L.A. SCBWI conference, and although Sam told me to take plenty of pictures, I ended up with about 10 of Michael Bourret, and about 4 others.  

I'll get into specifics later, but here are the highlights of the trip:

- I met my agent Michael Bourret for the first time ever! 

He was a rock star at the conference, and every time he walked through the lobby, he got mobbed as if he were Keith Richards at a Stones concert. To his credit, he was kind and gracious to everyone.

 (Michael Bourret, me)

I had an hour with him, so of course I spent the first forty minutes discussing my obsession with Rafa, because that's exactly how I like to manage my time with my agent.

In my defense, I had just met a movie producer guy who hinted that he could introduce me to Rafa, and that's not a good thing to say to me as I'm heading off to meet my agent for the first time. 

It went something like this:

Michael: "Brodi, it's so good to finally meet you!"

me: "Hey! Speaking of "meeting", did you know there's a guy over there who said he could introduce me to Rafa Nadal? What can you do to make it happen faster?"

Great first impression.

-M.T. Anderson was at the conference. 

He wrote books like Feed and Octavian Nothing, so yeah, he was King. 

I went to a breakout session of his, where some random guy from the audience got to help him set up his projector. 

(M. T. Anderson and Random Guy (aka Matt Kirby) having a total fanboy moment)

Sorry, that's the only picture I got of M.T. I know it's blurry. And that's not a random guy. That's author Matt Kirby, but Matt accused me of blogging about him "all the time", especially about his "dancing", so I promised Matt I wouldn't mention his name in any of my conference blogs.

I'll blog more about M.T.'s breakout session on Friday.

- I went to the Hearts and Souls Ball. 

(Emily Wing Smith, Bree Despain, me, Sydney Salter)

I learned my lesson last year when I tried to wear shorts to the ball, and was promptly laughed off the dance floor. (btw, laughing someone off the dance floor is not as fun as it sounds. It is difficult to achieve, and painful for the target.)

This year, I wore a skirt! Unfortunately, I did not win "best costume." I think I was robbed.

- We danced!

(Me, Matt Kirby, Emily Wing Smith, Bree Despain)

Okay, so I don't have pictures of us dancing... unless you count this one.

Matt Kirby (a.k.a. "He who shall not be mentioned") claimed he couldn't (or wouldn't) be dancing, but the second the band started up with B-52's Love Shack, there was no stopping him. 

Eventually, M.T. Anderson came over to our little circle and danced with us, prompting this inscription in my book:

"To Brodi: What fun we had in the LOVE SHACK"

Which made my hubby laugh and laugh. And laugh. And I think raise an eyebrow.

- I went to a breakout session led by Michael Bourret and Jill Alexander, author of The Sweetheart of Prosper County. 

Michael and Jill killed in there. Literally, there were bodies, and limbs, and various types of bodily ooze, everywhere. They were that funny. 

After the cleanup crew bleached the place, I got a picture.

(Michael, Jennifer Hunt - editor at Little, Brown books, Emily, me)

-I got to meet up with authors!

That's the very cool thing about going to SCBWI. You get to hang out in the lobby and make friends with people who love children's books, and who are just as crazy as you.  Yes, you. I mean, me.

(Bree, me, Emily, Lindsey Leavitt -"Princess for Hire", Lisa Schroeder- "It's Raining Cupcakes")

- Did I mention I met my agent?

(me, wonderful girl whose name I don't know, Michael, Emily, Alice Pope of Team Blog fame)

Did I mention Michael accused me of blinding him with my cheap-a** camera? Did I mention I had to steal the camera cuz I don't have one of my own?

When he found out, Michael frowned and said, "We need to get you a book deal." I couldn't agree more. I'd like a deal at least large enough to buy me a camera that doesn't cause retinal damage. So, $250 should be fine. 

Okay, this post has gone on long enough. I'll have more later! I missed you all, and I would've blogged from the conference, but the hotel charged for Wi-Fi, and if I can't afford a camera, I certainly can't afford to pay for Wi-Fi, which should really be as free as air.

So, what have y'all been up to?

Blog Birthday, and the SCBWI Conference Goings-On.

Happy Blorthday!
Or is it Happy Blogiversary?

Anyway, my blog turned one year old today.

One year ago, my agent Ted came into town and asked the now historic question, "Publishers are going to Google your name. Do you have a blog?"

me: "Totally. Of course. Just don't check it tonight, kay?"

Then I raced home and wrote my first post: My Foot Lives in my Mouth... Sorry, Does that Sound Gross? , and emailed my entire contact list, begging them to comment so I wouldn't look like I'd just started a blog that day. Which is what I did.

At first, I thought I'd run out of things to blog about after a week. Funny, huh?

I went to the Utah SCBWI Conference over the weekend.

Publisher Elizabeth Law spoke about five things writers don't have to worry about:

1. Trends. Don't try to write to "what's hot now".
Ex:
If there's anything Nosferatu (hot vamp in the 1920's) taught us, it's that our obsession with vampires is as fleeting as a granite mountain. But the second you try to write about them, the mountain crumbles.

2. Don't worry about working in the "telling detail". If it doesn't sound natural, don't put it in.
Ex:
"I walked into the classroom. The smell of chalk mixed with eraser assaulted my nostrils, and the desks gleamed as if they'd been cleaned with wood varnish by a custodian who loves his job like a trucker loves his truck."

I copied that sentence from one in my book. I think maybe I'll cut it now.

3. Don't worry about making your writing sound ethnic, hip or trendy.
Seriously, don't try it. Fuhgehdaboutit. Umm... capice? Talk to the hand. Grown-ups suck! Cowabunga. Text you later. Me Tarzan. You Jane. Confusius say... Mama Mia!

She sort of forgot 4 and 5.

Here's a rundown from the rest of the events:

*Emily Wing Smith tried out her new video camera, and thought no one would notice it was a video camera, even though she walked around looking like this:

*Matt Kirby got away with wearing a Dr. Seuss t-shirt to the author social while the rest of us were sweating in actual clothes.

(Sarah DeFord Williams, Matt Kirby, Bree Despain)

*Matt thought my fear of Thing 1 and Thing 2 was heeelarious.

*Emily insisted she could suck on a giant ice cube and still look normal. I don't see anything.

*I circled the library four times before I spotted the elusive entrance to the underground parking. Apparently, the library likes to watch confused drivers and laugh its arse off.

*Elizabeth Law said she would give a contract to anyone who could set her up on a date. I offered hubby. She declined.

*Bree Despain appeared on a panel of debut authors. Her ARC of The Dark Divine was the hot ticket at the raffle. Go Bree!

*Matt Kirby theorized that our civilization would morph into a culture where people partake in crazy activities just so they'd have something to blog about. I say, it already has.

*Bree and I reminisced about the party last year, when the two of us went to the wrong party. For 45 minutes. And didn't even notice. The partygoers were all dressed in hoity toity clothes, many carrying pooches in their purses. I remembered thinking, "Boy, Children's authors must be rich!"

How wrong we were. The author's party was in the basement.

So, what did you guys do this weekend? Anyone hit the conference? Any NaNoWriMo updates?

FBF Winner, and Presenting the First Page of My New Book (Feel Free to Disregard)

1. Free Book Friday Winner:

Keersten

Choose your top three books from the picture and email me your address. (Email in sidebar).

2. Team Tamale Deadline
Tonight is the deadline for Team Tamale. And I can tell you all, I'm finished with my book! Now there's a huge difference between typing The End, and having a draft that's actually readable by someone else.

Right now, it's about at the reading level for hamsters. By December, I'm hoping to take it to the next level. Bats.

3. SCBWI Conference

Anyone in the Salt Lake area writing for children out there? Young Adult, Middle Grade, Picture Book? The SCBWI Utah conference is this Saturday. I'll be there. I also happen to know Bree Despain will be speaking at some point.

And SCBWI Queen Sydney Salter brings in editors, agents and authors who shed skin cells on the whole publishing industry. (You thought I was going to say "shed light", didn't you? I was going to, but I didn't want to be cliche.)

If you do want to go, make sure you email Sydney Salter asap and work it out with her that you want to pay at the door. Tell her I sent you, and she'll jack up the price an extra 10%. Her email's in the sidebar.

4. I vow to Up My Blog Quality, so Up Yours.

Y'all know I've been a little light in brain cells lately with this whole Chimi-Challenge '09. But now that it's over, at least my part of it is, I promise my blog quality will resume it's normal, lackluster sweaty sheen. I just snorted over that last sentence. Heh heh. It doesn't even make snense.

I bet right now, y'all are wishing for a guest blogger. Well, too bad! My blog's not cool enough to attract guest bloggers.

So, as a final salute to mediocrity, I will present the first page of my new book. Feel free to skip to the end of this post without reading. I will not be offended.

Whoa. Stage fright. Hubby just told me, "Maybe you don't want to share your first page. Maybe you want to wait until you've revised a few times."

To which I reply, "Did General Custer hesitate on his way to Little Big Horn? I think not."

So, like a mobster who brings a knife to a gunfight, I present my first page. As for comments, ummm... if you have to choose between being nice, and being honest, choose nice. (btw, it's a Young Adult novel, about a teenage girl who's been gone for a long time, but gets a chance to go back to her high school)

CHAPTER ONE

It’s too soon.

But, really, I’d been gone for one hundred years. Everything about my old life would be too soon. Especially high school.

The halls of Jackson High looked the same, and I reminded myself that above ground – far above the Underneath - only a few months had passed during my absence.

Senior year. A waste of time, in one respect, considering I would never graduate. But I needed be here to glimpse, for a moment, the life I had before. The year I should’ve had. To see Jack one last time. To stockpile memories that would nourish me for the next century. I could do this without hurting him again.

I glanced down at my schedule. First period English Literature. As I checked the room numbers at the tops of the doors, curious whispers floated along the hall behind me. Hanging in the air above my head. Blended together, belonging to no single voice.

Isn’t that Nicole Beckett?
She looks awful… Is she using?
Has to be… She was with the band. What else would do that to person?
Poor Jack. Does he know she’s back? Does he know she’s strung out?

When I found the right room, I clutched my books into my chest, lowered my head, and walked through the door.

Someone -- probably the teacher -- called from near the front of the classroom. “Miss Beckett? Is it?”

Hearing my own last name did strange things to my heart. Made it beat a little faster. A little harder. It’d been so long since I had a last name. For a hundred years, Cole only called me by my first name.
***

Okay, thanks for humoring me. Now to just get up the courage to press "publish post". How's y'all's week going? Pressing "Publish Post" in 3.... 2.... 1

Final SCBWI lessons, and a very Unique Threesome

Good Morrow Yon Bloggerland...

I am currently in Colorado, resting comfortably at 8,700 feet elevation.

The above sentence could also be typed this way:

After 8 interminable hours on a winding road upward - during which carsick Kid-B puked from Heavens all the way to Mergatroid - we arrived somewhere near outer space, where the air is not only thin, it's dangerously anorexic, and when you have asthma, and you're just getting over a cold, elevation is about as pleasant as a knee to the groin.

Kid C, me (suffocating to death) and Kid B

But Colorado is beautiful this time of year. Sort of like Utah. Only further away.

I jest. I'm really having fun. I have Wine-Frye. (Wi-Fi, to those of you new to the blog). The master bedroom doesn't have a king-size bed, but that's only because it has to make room for the hot tub.

What's that you say? Silly Brodi, she means a Jacuzzi, or a rather large bathtub. Because no normal-sized condo has a hot tub inside the bedroom.

No, no. You heard me right. I mean a full-sized, special sturdy deck, bad prom date, hot tub.

Voila. (Which, in English, means "Holy Moly that's a big Hot Tub."

It has the effect of making our bedroom feel sorta like an indoor swimming pool. At one point, during the night, I tried to "turn it off" and succeeded only in firing up the jets at full speed.

Sam informed me one doesn't really "turn off" a hot tub.

So we are lulled to sleep by the gentle purrs of the world's largest outdoor hot tub that can still, magically, fit indoors. The three of us sleep quite comfortably together. Me, Sam and the Hot Tub. Although I have had to get after the hot tub for stealing the covers.

Leaving the Universe’s strangest ménage a trios, and continuing on with the list of stuff I learned at the SCBWIBCSIWC Conference:

Where were we? #6 maybe?

6. I should really grow a pair.

If you ever want to get introduced to someone, but you are too afraid, you need a friend like Emily Wing Smith. She has mastered the art of the "sidle", where she mingles and mozies her way toward the target. Everyone who was on the receiving end of one of her "sidles" was always so darn happy to meet her.

Without her "sidle", we never would have met many of the cool people, like Richard Peck, Sherman Alexie, Jay Asher and countless others.

(Me, Richard Peck, Bree)

(Emily, Jay Asher, Bree)

Bree and I tried to "sidle" on our own once - to a semi-famous author - and we asked if we could get a picture. He acted like we had dared him to chug a mug of cat vomit. Seriously.

The ultimate was when the hotel closed down the courtyard and film crews took over to shoot a scene from the television show “Lie to Me”.

They had bouncers at every door, and signs instructing the loser touristas to stay away.

But, you see, Emily wanted to be an extra. She’s wanted it for a long time.

So, that little sidler just walked right past all the signs, found the nearest person with headphones, and asked him where the background actors should report.

It's hard to see, but Emily's dressed all in black,
obviously past security's first line of defense.

She made it quite far, and when all else failed, she offered to get a sound guy a sandwich.

Serious cajones, that inappropriate little sidler.

7. Black shorts are not appropriate attire for a Ball.

In the spirit of the notorious “prom pants” event, I tried to get away with wearing black shorts to the “Blue Moon Ball”.

To be fair, I had a fear of being the only one at the Ball who wasn’t asked to dance, so I wanted to wear something I felt comfortable in.

Black shorts. And even worse, no blue.

But Emily and Bree wouldn’t allow it. They said, “What if you get asked to dance the Virginia Reel, and you lack the flowing skirts?” (Okay, they didn’t really say that. I was the only one who was naïve enough to think there would be a Virginia Reel.)

Virginia Reel

In the end, I borrowed an outfit from Emily.

Scarlett O'Hara wore black to her ball. Nobody gave her crap. And btw, when there are 800 women, and 100 men at a conference, the ball is not bound to look like this:

One of Many Embarrasing Moments at SCBWI, and a pic of me with Sherman Alexie

Wearing our Bad Reviews on our Shirts...

Here's the pic I wanted to show yesterday of the gals with Sherman Alexie:

(Bree, Sherman Alexie, Emily, me)

We had matching shirts made for the conference (I know, we're geeks) and on the shirts we had printed some of the bad reviews our books had gotten.

Emily's: "Inappropriate"
Bree's: "Blasphemous"
Mine: "Violent"

Sherman Alexie loved our shirts. So next year, I'm making a tee-shirt that says, "Sherman Alexie loved my shirt last year."

On to the Belly Boobs
This is the last time I tease a post like that. You just can't promise readers the glory of "belly boobs" and then think that it's possible to live up to such expectations.

So let me just say, here and now, the two words "belly" and "boobs" are by themselves more interesting than the actual story.

On with the countdown of things I learned at the SCBWI Conference: (Or "countup" is more accurate)

5. There's never really an appropriate time to shout "belly boobs" in public.

Saturday night of the conference was the Blue Moon Ball in the courtyard of the hotel.

(Sydney Salter, Matt Kirby, me, Bree, Emily at the Ball)

There was a shortage of elevators in the hotel, and so the wait to get one was always long, and once it arrived, it may or may not be too full.

Bree and I were waiting for an elevator to take us down to the Ball, and I was explaining to her why I couldn't possibly get away with not wearing a bra.

Below is my recap, in extra slow motion so you can benefit from the timing of it all.

*Brodi and Bree, waiting to see which of the four elevators will ding*

me: "I really can't go anywhere without a bra." (Okay, this was not actually the first thing out of my mouth. I promise it was a continuation of the conversation.)

Bree: "Why not?" *Elevator Dings*

me: "Because I end up looking like Kathy Lee Gifford." *Arrow Lights Up*
*It happens to be the elevator in front of Brodi, and toward which she is now facing, two feet away*

Bree: "What's wrong with looking like Kathy Lee Gifford?"

me: "Seriously? I have two words for you." *Doors Open to a packed elevator car, all of whom are staring at Brodi, who is also staring back*

me: "Belly Boobs!"

Awkward silence as we all just stand there, looking at each other. Bree and I can't fit on, and she's across the room anyway, so it's just me still staring. Doors close.

Bree starts laughing hysterically.

me (turning reluctantly to Bree): "Did I really just shout 'belly boobs' to an elevator full of people?"

Bree: nods, still laughing.

So, their doors opened, and there was this girl, just waiting to say 'belly boobs'. Almost like it was some sort of password to get on the elevator or something.

And why is it that people in an elevator have absolutely no sense of humor? The inside of a packed elevator is more somber than a freakin' funeral home. Nobody even cracked a smile. It was like I had said 'belly boobs' and everyone inside the car was thinking, ah, belly boobs. Yes. Interesting point.

Okay, that was my story. I challenge you to try this in your own hotels, and see if anyone on the elevator has the stones to say something back.

I'll have more from the conference next week. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Back to normal. Because I've discovered something about myself- I simply cannot blog back to back days. I'm all tapped out. The brain fluids need a chance to regroup, and pool.

I'm also off to Colorado tomorrow, and hopefully the place has Wine Frye.

Anyone else doing anything fun this weekend?

SCBWI Gems, Lessons, and Stars, and the Sexiest Elevator Voice Ever

Okay, Okay. I know. It's Thursday. I blogged on Tuesday and now I'm blogging on Thursday. There is such a thing as a Tesseract.

To be fair... Sam started it. He blogged on Saturday one day late. And that's when the black hole in the Space-Time Continuum imploded.

I should've just waited until Wednesday, but then... wait. Why am I delving into the particulars of blog schedule? I feel like a Jane Austen character, where the socially awkward aunt doesn't know what to do with a letter she received on a Thursday, because she usually receives letters on a Tuesday, and she bores the bejeebers out of everyone she encounters, etc. etc. etc.

This is really not the best way to impress our new readers, if there are any after the conference. And what's with the use of "etc."? That's just an abbreviation for boring.

Where was I? Oh yeah. I don't know.

WHAT I LEARNED AT SCBWI CONFERENCE IN L.A.

1. SCBWI stands for Society of Childrens' Book Writers and Illustrators.
Not "Conference for Writers who Want to Write Good Stuff for the Chicklins."

2. Sometimes Water on the Brain can be a Beautiful Thing

Sherman Alexie (Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian) opened the conference with an inspiring, amazing, totally kick-butt speech.










He was born with hydrocephaly (water on the brain) and he grew 42 teeth (32 is normal). He spoke with both a stutter and a lisp.

All I have to say is: where is some of that magic rez water, and how can I inject it into my sons' brains? Because it'd be worth it if the result is a Sherman Alexie-like brilliance.

Little Tidbit: He had to get the extra teeth pulled, but the Indian Health Service funded dental work one day a year. So he had to have all ten extra teeth pulled in one day.



Gem: (About Young Adult Literature) "Our books will change lives in a way an adult book can not."















(He liked my name. He signed my book: "Brodi, Superhero Name! Sherman Alexie")

3. Everything sounds better coming out of Richard Peck's mouth.

Richard Peck comes from another time and place (still writes his book on a typewriter, not sure of the place. Somewhere in the Midwest?).








During his keynote address, I wanted to charge the stage just to capture every word that came out of his mouth. Then I wanted to gather all the words, take them down to the local tanner, and have them bronzed. But I wasn't sure if that would put my suitcase over the weight limit.

Mr. Peck expressed a scathing indictment for things like Twitter, Facebook, and other such lame-o wastes of time. So for an entire day, I didn't Twitter.

Gem: "Schools can either teach the students, or fear the parents. They can't do both."

Thank you, Richard.













(Richard Peck and Sherman Alexie signing autographs)

4. Even the word "Lobby" can sound sexy.

At our hotel (the Hyatt Regency in Beverly Hills) everything is sorta posh. Especially the elevator narrator. You know, the female voice that announces which floor you are on.

And the way she said the word "Lobby", it made me feel like we were about to step off the elevator and onto some lounge floor, where the lights are dim, a disco ball may be present, and people may or may not be dressed.

Like: "Laaaahhhhhhbby". Seriously, I blushed. I even felt a little dirty. Like I had been phoning a 1-900 number, and now I had to pay the bill.

I will continue with all the things I learned tomorrow, but here's a teaser:

5. There is really no appropriate time to shout the words "Belly Boobs", but it's especially inappropriate here...

I am dedicating the post to Una, who, along with many others, was most affected by the wormhole created when I blogged on a Tuesday.